Wild Birds
by TickleTheToast
Summary: Kuki cannot shake the feeling that she knows things (people) that she really doesn't. A journey of re-self-discovery. [post-decomm, primarily 3x4]
1. The End

**AN: **This is a post-decommissioning story. Do not be deceived. It will not be what you expect.

Not a sequel to '29 Tries' (as in it does not have to have been read for this story to make sense) but can be read as an alternate epilogue. That is, the first 29 chapters of 29 Tries is tentatively considered past canon for this story.

A lot of you have been waiting for this! Unfortunately, there will be more of that. I can't say how often I will be able to update this story because it is nowhere near finished, so… I also don't know how long it will be but WE WILL GET THERE I PROMISE JUST HANG IN THERE FRIENDS

**Disclaimer: **KND is my forbidden fruit. I see, I am tempted, I can wax philosophic about it, but I cannot receive the sweet taste on my tongue without righteous retribution. Therefore, it can never be mine, and I will continue to admire it from afar on my lonely, much-abused keyboard.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 1: The End**

* * *

_"Try this – close  
your eyes.  
No, wait, when – if – we see each other  
again the first thing we should do is close our eyes – no,  
first we should tie our hands to something  
solid – bedpost, doorknob – otherwise they (wild birds)  
might startle us  
awake. Are we forgetting something?"_

_– Nick Flynn "forgetting something"_

* * *

Kuki wakes up with the carpet on her face.

Well, no – that's not quite right, is it?

Kuki wakes up with her face on the carpet.

That's better. The thing with words is, as wonderful as they are to communicate, they are equally as prevalent in breeding misunderstanding.

Remember that. It's important.

Kuki picks herself up gingerly and rubs at her burnt cheek, regarding her bed as if it had decided to throw her out of it voluntarily. The pillow stands out like a flag of surrender against the mangled blankets.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

The morning is grey and bulging with thick clouds that look as if they're slowly devouring the tops of the trees that flank the road to school. Kuki stops on the sidewalk to peer upwards at the sky and notices a dinky little treehouse she's never really seen before. It looks about a hundred years old, and there are streaks of faded paint on the side facing the street.

Kuki goes on her way and forgets.

AP Chemistry. Art. Economics. Lunch: cornbread and beans. French III. Study Hall: French quiz next week, look over the vocabulary. Anatomy. Pre-Calculus.

The walk home feels longer than normal. Kuki works on her homework until dinnertime, then she takes a shower, watches some TV, and crawls into bed. She's asleep almost immediately.

…

Eight hours later, the alarm clock goes off and Kuki peels herself from the floor.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

Kuki's shadow is pale and the dull weather follows her all the way to school, and then all the way back.

…

Kuki reaches up from the floor to turn off the blaring alarm.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

It always looks like it's about to rain, but it never does. Kuki supposes the clouds are being merciful - that treehouse the next street over would probably get so heavy and swollen with water that it would collapse on itself. It looks like it's falling apart already – obviously no one has cared for it in a long time.

…

Kuki never hits the snooze button and sits up on the floor at precisely 7am each morning.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast…

"Headaches again, Kuki? No more caffeine before bed!"

…Backpack.

The clouds look like they're moving today. Kuki's shadow is moving, too.

The guy next to her in Pre-Cal snores.

…

Kuki has taken to keeping her alarm clock on the rug for easier access.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast…

"The weather is awful," Kuki's mom comments on her way out the door. "Take an umbrella."

…Backpack. Umbrella.

It doesn't rain.

…

Kuki mistakes the alarm for something else in a dream. She wakes up reaching for something that isn't there.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

The treehouse is looming and dark, but others on the sidewalk just clutch their dry umbrellas and stare at their shoes as if they can't even see it. Kuki rubs at her temple and pretends she's like everyone else.

…

It takes Kuki three tries to turn the alarm off and she tosses the clock under her bed in frusration. She's too old for Rainbow Monkeys, anyway.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Hair. Breakfast. Backpack.

Why would someone paint numbers on a treehouse? It doesn't make anything less grey.

…

The alarm doesn't go off the next morning. Kuki wakes up on the floor to the sound of the garbage truck.

Sweater. Leggings. Socks. Sneakers. Backpack.

She flashes out the door and across the empty driveway, giving up on the tangled knot of her hair.

The clouds are bulging and blot the sky with deep greys and blacks. It almost feels like nighttime.

Kuki sprints down the sidewalk, past the dilapidated, unloved treehouse, around the corner on Pleasant Union Avenue and into something that isn't supposed to be there. Pain shoots through Kuki's face. Her eyes snap shut with the force of it, closing up on the image of a person in a hood.

There is a grunt, the sound of someone falling, and a crack of thunder.

"Watch it, you cruddy-!"

Kuki's eyes snap back open.

The clouds burst, roar, and pour it all down.

* * *

**AN: **Let me know your thoughts about this mother! Before anyone asks, Kuki is a senior in high school at this point, so about 4-5 years have passed since her decommissioning. Old, I know. Reason why it's rated T; things will be coarser and more adult-y. Nothing too bad, no taxes or anything.

For questions about updates/progress/errors/etc, the most efficient way for me to see your question is to send me an ask via askthetoast on tumblr. I can't trick the doc format into letting me put a link here anymore, so the link is on my profile. It will be our information hub for this and future fics!


	2. A Moment or Two

**AN: **Chapter two! Glad everyone was on board with this. No plot yet but we're getting there.

**Disclaimer:** KND has never been mine and never will be but wait a minute

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 2: A Moment or Two**

* * *

There is a boy sitting on the sidewalk in a brown sweatshirt.

Wait—maybe it's orange. Red? It's hard to concentrate when he keeps moving around.

Oh, maybe that's her.

Kuki blinks a few times and his colors settle.

Gold and orange and blue and black. No grey at all.

He looks up and frowns. She frowns back.

The boy pulls himself up from the ground, cursing, and looks her over again as he pulls up his hood.

Right; it's raining, finally - heavy, slow drops that slide into her hair, down her chin, and into the neck of her sweater. Kuki shivers.

"Oi, you okay?" he asks in an accent Kuki can't place.

"What?"

The boy, his face scrunched up with some emotion between confusion and disgust, gestures to his nose and pulls his brow forward in alarm.

Kuki lifts a hand to her own nose; it comes back bloody.

"Oh," she says. "Guess not." It actually really hurts, now that she's paying attention.

The _newness _of this morning is a bit distracting.

The boy sighs loudly, his sneakers scuffing the sidewalk as he steps toward her. "Are you high or something? Here." He hands her a rumpled tee shirt from his backpack. Kuki hesitates, wiping blood and rain from her mouth with her sleeve.

His sigh is closer to a scoff now. "It's _clean, _I swear, just—" He presses it against her face until Kuki takes it in her own hands. It smells like cheap detergent and clean boy.

"Okay then, Kuki?" he repeats.

Kuki meets his gaze. He's shorter than her, she realizes, but he knows her name so they must be in the same grade. She nods and thanks him.

He sighs again – this boy is constant _noise, _she isn't used to it—and slides his backpack back on. "I don't have an umbrella, sorry, but—you were going to school, right?"

Kuki nods.

Another sigh. "Fine, okay." He turns around to walk in the direction he came from, and Kuki has no choice but to follow.

She walks with the shirt held to her aching nose. The morning, so unlike others she's had, thunders with sound: the splish-splash of their feet and the pap-pap-pap of the rain. Under the cheap detergent and clean boy she smells wet concrete and the electricity gathering in the air. She's prepared for the sudden crash and snap of thunder and lightning as it shakes the sky, but the boy beside her jumps a mile.

"Jesus," he mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets and glancing sideways at her. Kuki thinks he's the kind of person who reacts to things, who needs conversation and feedback in a way she's unaccustomed to.

"I've never been late to school before," she ventures, lifting the shirt from her mouth briefly to talk. The boy glances at her again.

"Yeah, well, you're going to be even later if you've got a broken nose," he replies. Kuki decides that reminding him it would be his fault if she does would be rude.

The boy rubs his forehead. "Think you fractured my cruddy skull."

Kuki bristles and lifts the shirt again. Screw rudeness. "_You _ran into _me._"

The boy turns his head around to glare at her. "You were the weirdo doing the running! I was _walking _and minding my own business!"

"So you're saying it's_ my_ fault?"

"It cruddy sure isn't mine!" He whips his head back around and straightens his hood against the pounding rain, body language screaming 'end of conversation'.

Kuki smiles behind the shirt.

Thunder cracks again in the sky, and the rain pulses down harder. Bullets, fat and heavy, pour from the clouds. The boy curses under his breath and speeds up his pace, Kuki automatically following.

"Come on, slowpoke!" the boy calls.

Steaming, Kuki quickens into a jog and overtakes him in a few strides of her long legs.

A noise of complaint squeaks over the rumble of the storm, and Kuki hears the boy's sneakers begin to pound harder against the sidewalk.

A burst of thrill sparks at the back of Kuki's neck. She breaks into a run.

"What the—you—!" He struggles to match her pace.

His shouted protests and muffled curses turn into laughter before long, and Kuki finds herself brushing away the cobwebs in her throat to giggle loudly as they race each other through the rain, splashing in all the puddles they find.

The school looms ahead and they sprint for the front doors, fighting for that last fifty feet. They slam into the wall beneath the overhang, laughing breathlessly.

"I totally won," the boy pants.

"No way!" Kuki protests, bent over with her hands on her knees. "I was ahead of you the whole time!" She straightens, grinning, and is startled.

For a moment, for just a fraction of a second, Kuki is thrown by the sight of the boy grinning at her from where he leans against the bricks. He looks…not _wrong, _exactly, but…_off_. His jaw is too square; his shoulders are too wide.

For a moment, she had expected to see someone much more… or less…

Someone _younger._

Which is a strange thought to have at seventeen.

Kuki is suddenly aware of her aching nose again, the bloody shirt still clenched in her fist, and the rainwater that was soaked into her bra.

"Oh, um, here," she stumbles, holding out the sopping shirt.

"Woah, hey, I don't want that!"

"It's _your _shirt!"

"It's got _your _blood all over it! People are gonna think I murdered somebody!"

Kuki pushes forward to shove the shirt to his chest. "Just take it, you wuss!"

He lets out a disgusted noise, bringing his hands up to shove the material away. Instead, his hands encounter Kuki's, and the shirt is thrust into the limbo between them.

Their eyes meet for a moment.

Then a moment more.

Then another moment; or maybe it's all just one long, tense moment because how long is a single moment supposed to last, anyway?

Rain is dripping off his eyelashes. His eyes are green. Neither of them are quick to let go of the shirt they hold between them.

It's one long, very long, somehow very _significant _moment.

Then the bell rings.

They jolt apart and drop the shirt to the ground between them with a wet plop.

"Whoops, uh," the boy stoops to pick it up, fumbling for a moment with wringing it out. As eager as his eyes seemed before, they don't meet Kuki's now. His face is red. "We should…um…get to… uh, the thing…"

Kuki fumbles for the door behind her. "Uh, class?"

"Yeah, that one."

Kuki opens the door and they both blunder through, awkwardly bumping shoulders and making fleeting eye contact. At the intersecting hall, Kuki makes to go straight while the boy turns left.

"Uh, bye, I guess," he waves gawkily.

"Bye."

Kuki sets off down the hall. Everything blares out in high contrast. She can almost see the rut in the floor where she normally walks monotonously from class to class, in and out at the same pace, every day.

She crosses over that rut now and thinks she might start coming in from a different door every day. Just to shake things up.

Kuki has another thought, out of nowhere, just before she reaches AP Chem five minutes late.

_Wallabee Beatles._

* * *

**AN: **Chapter 3 isn't finished yet, but I should have it by next Saturday. Please review!

Tickle that toast.


	3. The Rain Just Keeps On Coming

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 3: The Rain Just Keeps On Coming**

* * *

There's a girl whose name Kuki knows is Abigail Lincoln, but they're not exactly friends. They have Econ together and Abby, who is probably set to be valedictorian this year, has a ridiculous skill with flash cards that has saved Kuki's GPA three times over. They're not friends because they've never really talked outside of class, but when Kuki walks into third period that morning, hair and sweater still damp and nose black with a bruise, Abby's expression is one of deep concern.

"Kuki, what happened to you? Get mugged?" Abby stands to loom over Kuki's desk as she sits down, arms crossed as if she was going to personally hunt down whoever was to blame.

"No, I woke up late and got caught in the storm. No big deal!" Kuki responded cheerfully.

Abby raises an eyebrow. "And the raccoon face you've got goin?"

"Oh, I, uh, bumped into someone. It's okay."

"Who?"

Kuki hunkers down under Abby's intense scrutiny. _Wally_, she thinks, but that's far too familiar. She shouldn't even know his name. "That-that short kid in the orange hoodie?"

A funny look crosses Abby's face. Her posture relaxes. "Wally Beatles?" she asks, laughter in her voice.

Hearing it out loud, knowing for sure, sends a little tingle up Kuki's spine. Or maybe that's the headache. She would have to stop by the nurse for ibuprofen again.

"He keeps trying out for the basketball team but he can't even sink a free-throw," Abby chuckles in her husky voice. Abby is the coach's assistant for the boys basketball team. "It's gettin' harder and harder to turn him down."

Kuki giggles. She can see that.

Class starts and Abby returns to her seat, but not before sending Kuki a wink with a sparkle in her eye.

Weird.

She walks with Abby to lunch after class, which is normal, but what isn't normal is that Abby offers her a seat at her table. Which is, you know; different.

Kuki hesitates. Abby is nice, but she and Kuki walk in completely different circles. Abby is _cool. _Kuki is…typical.

Kuki glances toward the table that houses her usual friends, deliberating. Fanny's voice alone is enough to antagonize her headache even without Lizzie's chiming in. Virginia would ask too many questions about her nose. She can already tell Eve and the Doblemitz twins are in the middle of some debate. Looking at them now, it's hard to believe they're her friends.

Kuki blinks, the thought coming into her head out of nowhere. That's not fair; they're her _best friends._

Abby calls her name. "Kuki! You comin' or what?"

Kuki turns, gripping her lunch tray tightly. Abby is nodding toward the other end of the cafeteria, one eyebrow raised.

Kuki nods and smiles, which makes Abby grin as if she's actually glad for the company.

She sits down next to Abby at a table filled with people she recognizes. She knows them, but she doesn't _know _them.

"Alright, Kuki, these are my friends, Chad, Jason, Phil, and Rachel." Chad and Jason Kuki recognizes from the football team, and Phil and Rachel are on the student council. She waves at them, aiming for friendliness and getting a bland but very interested response from all four. Rachel smiles very largely at her.

"And this is my girlfriend, Heinie," Abby continues, draping her arm around the table's last occupant.

'Heinie', a delicately pretty girl with white-blonde braids and a red scarf, shoves at Abby in mock anger. "My _name _is Henrietta von Marzipan," she says in a heavy German accent, directing the words more at Abby than Kuki.

"Whatever, Heinie," Abby coos.

"Hi," Kuki replies. Henrietta doesn't spare her more than a glance, which is something Kuki wishes she could say about the others.

Now Kuki is a very friendly person. She loves people, and they typically love her. She's not usually shy or self-conscious around new friends.

But she's pretty sure they're all staring at her. She's getting that tingle up her spine when someone has their eyes on you, but every time she looks up everyone is turned away, toward their lunch or each other. Like they aren't allowed to even speak to her.

Ears burning, Kuki concentrates on her grilled cheese.

"Your name is Kuki, correct?"

Kuki looks up. For being the one to initiate the conversation, Henrietta doesn't look thrilled to talk to her.

"Kuki Sanban," she says, dredging up a smile.

Henrietta nods absentmindedly, jumping and glaring at her girlfriend when she subtly elbows her in the side. Abby gives her an encouraging look, and Henrietta turns back to Kuki with a sigh.

"You have Econ with Abby; I'm sure that must be an awful chore."

Kuki smiles, relaxes. "She's actually a huge help. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Henrietta makes a noise as if she agrees, then narrows her eyes. "You aren't going to be stealing her from me, are you?"

Kuki laughs outright. "The only way I could steal her is if I had an endless supply of candy."

Henrietta absolutely _howls. _Abby, grinning, pretends to hide behind her hat.

Abby likes candy. A lot. Kuki probably learned that somewhere, but she can't think of where at the moment.

She's pretty sure she just passed some kind of test.

"Do you though?" Henrietta continues, giggling. "Because she would have to fight me for you."

Though the rest of the table continues to exist in their own bubble of isolation, conversation comes easier after that. Henrietta is a bit intense, but is nice enough with Abby as a buffer. Lunch goes quickly and the couple smiles at Kuki when they separate for their next class.

As she walks away, Kuki hears Henrietta whisper, "Does she-?" and Abby interrupt with "No."

The words don't mean anything to Kuki, but she walks faster all the same.

* * *

As weird as lunchtime was, Pre-Cal is even stranger.

The kid who sits beside her and snores is Wally. But of course he is. Kuki remembers seeing him before today, when she thinks about it. He just never stuck in her mind until today.

It helps that Wally seems equally surprised to see her.

Kuki sinks down into her seat, smiling bashfully. "Hi."

"Hi," Wally replies, wearing an equally awkward grin. "How's the….um?" He gestures to his nose.

"Fine. It stopped hurting a while ago. Not broken."

"Oh. Good."

After a silence in which Wally fiddles with his pencil and Kuki keeps one hand on the strap of her backpack, Kuki leans down to bring out her notebook and rearrange a few of the papers stuck in there, just to busy her hands until class starts. She is hyperaware of Wally's presence next to her, and wonders why she never really noticed him until they literally collided together on the sidewalk.

Seriously; how cliché is that?

But now that she has noticed him, Kuki begins to _notice _him.

He's kinda cute.

He's got nice hands.

She also notices him noticing her, which she isn't sure what to do about.

He doesn't fall asleep today, but he does race out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings, negating any ideas Kuki had about maybe possibly walking in the general direction of home with him.

Well, fine, she thinks. Who needs him.

* * *

"We didn't see you at lunch today," Virginia notes, appearing suddenly on the other side of Kuki's locker. "What's up with that? And oh my god, your nose! Was someone picking on you? Did you eat alone in the bathroom?"

Kuki laughs, but there is an edge of nervousness to it. What does she have to be nervous about? It's not a crime to sit at a different table for one lunch period. "What? No! My nose was an accident. And I sat with Abby Lincoln today."

Virginia straightens, brow furrowing behind thick bangs. "What? Why?" She looks incredibly insulted, which Kuki thinks is a little more Eve's style of dramatics, but in that moment the girl who has been Kuki's best friend since third grade is looking at her like she's a stranger.

Maybe that's why Kuki lies.

"She…she was helping me with some Econ homework. It was no big deal."

Virginia breathes out an overdramatic sigh of relief. "Whoo! That's good. I thought you'd gone to the dark side." She grins and slaps Kuki on the back. "You belong with weirdos like us."

Something in Kuki protests violently at that, her locker door slamming shut harder than she meant. She isn't sure if she's insulted at being called a weirdo or at the idea that Abby is somehow _not _a weirdo. Which she clearly is. Or maybe it's the confirmation that a friend like that is outside her reach.

Kuki isn't sure what to make of her reaction, so she bites her tongue.

Virginia goes off down B Hall to go to her Chemistry club, leaving Kuki staring at the pouring rain through the front doors. It had been so fun this morning. Now it's just bumming her out.

Heaving a sigh, Kuki is bracing herself and reaching for the pushbar when a gentle poke on her arm stops her. She turns.

Abby's friend from lunch – Rachel? – is standing behind her with a wide smile. A purple umbrella sits in her hand, the tip hovering next to Kuki's bicep.

"Um…hi?" Kuki ventures, tries to smile. She is a friendly person. She is.

Rachel, however, remains quiet beneath her enigmatic smile and wriggles the umbrella pointedly.

Hesitating, because the silent act was getting really _weird_, Kuki takes the umbrella. The moment its weight rests in her hand, Rachel turns heel and walks off.

"Thank you!" Kuki calls after her.

Rachel glances back, a softer smile on her face, before she disappears down the hall.

Stepping out of an alcove behind her is Phil, who pauses before he follows his friend out of sight. His sunglasses were too dark to see his eyes, but Kuki swears he had been looking right at her.

Today has officially been weird.

Kuki shivers, opens the umbrella, and steps out into the storm.

* * *

**AN: **Bland blah chapter. I was going to have a thing happen but I think the thing would be better later so. The plot will begin to roll in the next one, I promise. (P.S. All the folks mentioned are canon KND characters; those who didn't have real names I gave some: Eve=Numbuh 12, Jason=Numbuh 100, Phil=Numbuh Infinity)


	4. Now Which One Was Real Again?

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 4: Now Which One Was Real Again?**

* * *

The treehouse is beautiful. It stands tall and still and proud and the paint is clear and bright.

It's safe.

It's home.

Abby's there too, and she's coaxing Kuki in. It's not necessary; she _wants _to go inside. Why would she need to be coaxed?

There's someone working at a bench, gnawing at a chili dog while machinery whirs and snarls around him.

Abby is tugging gently at her hand.

Someone else is sitting at a giant computer, shaking a fist at the blurry face on the screen.

_Sunglasses,_ Kuki thinks for some reason.

Abby is wearing a red hat now. When did that happen? It looks good on her.

The hat expands, pulsing, filling her vision.

Red is everywhere, accompanied by the blaring sound of an alarm.

_It's time to go_, Kuki thinks excitedly. _It's time to go!_

She runs, happy, enthusiastic, elated. She has a purpose.

_It's time to go._

_It's time to go._

_It's time to go!_

_"Battlestations!"_

Kuki slams her hand down on the alarm clock.

She's on the floor again, sweating, heart slamming against her ribcage, back aching from the uncomfortable position.

It's time to go to school.

* * *

Kuki begins to think that Abby's friendliness from yesterday was a dream when she is greeted by only a stone-faced nod of recognition when she enters class that morning.

Though Kuki tries to catch her eye several times, Abby's attention remains focused on the lesson and her gaze does not drift over to her kind-of-sort-of-friend. Kuki tries not to feel hurt when Abby is the first person out of the classroom when the bell rings.

Kuki thinks is safe to say she is not invited to lunch.

She returns to her own table, a soggy PB&amp;J, and the low chatter of her friends. Right; her _friends. _She'd been rude to them yesterday. This is where she belongs.

The rest of the day sinks into a fog of note-taking and hall-walking. Just as it was.

Pre-Cal, however, is a vastly different story.

The moment she enters the door, Wally's eyes seek her out. An awkward little grin quirks upwards on his face.

Kuki takes a deep breath and lets the fog drift away, making way for vibrant colors and sharpened vision. Smiles. Waves back. Sits down.

"Hi, Wally."

"Hey, Ku- uh, Kuki." He falters for a moment, face twitching briefly into something like confusion.

Kuki realizes he'd never actually introduced himself. But he knows her name; it isn't so weird for her to know his, right?

The little smile trying not to rise on Wally's face suggests it's really not.

Class starts. Conversation ceases, but Kuki finds herself stealing glances at the boy next to her all the same.

She's had crushes before. Freshman year it had been a guy named Ace who she went on exactly one date with before she realized he was better suited to a harem than a relationship. There had been others here and there, both short-lived and far-fetched, but the point of the matter is that Kuki knows what infatuation feels like.

This…isn't quite that.

Kuki's not really sure what to call the safe, familiar glow in her gut when she glances over and finds Wally's gaze drifting toward her. Their eyes dart away quickly, but they're smiling as they work through their math problems.

It doesn't feel romantic, exactly. It just really feels like everything in her is telling Kuki to get to know this weirdo who chased her through the rain.

Kuki's okay with that. She's a friendly person.

And he's cute for a shortie.

Once again, she glances toward Wally, who is hunched over his notebook, scribbling out vertical asymptotes for the formulas on the board.

With one glance Kuki can tell his answers are all wrong. He'd written things like 'x=4' and Kuki feels strangely disappointed. She wonders if he's even trying.

"That's wrong," she whispers, eyes front.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him pause to glance at her, then scribble out whatever answer he was writing down.

"Then what's the answer?" he whispers back.

"Figure it out."

"I can't."

"Try."

Kuki glances over at the same time Wally does. This time neither of them looks away.

The prickle of familiarity runs up Kuki's spine again, making her shiver.

This time, she sees the same reaction mirrored in Wally.

The bell rings.

As Kuki fumbles to collect her things, shaken by whatever unidentifiable situation she's been caught in, Wally tears the erroneous page out of his notebook and throws it at the trash can. It bounces off the rim and onto the floor.

Kuki pauses. "Why'd you do that?"

He shrugs, stuffing the notebook into his backpack and zipping it up. "They were all wrong anyway."

"Yeah, but now you'll never learn," Kuki replies heatedly.

Wally scoffs, swinging his bag onto his back. "Not in this class that's for sure. Mr. Figg is a boring A-hole."

Kuki frowns. "You need to get a tutor, then, or else you'll never pass and you won't get to graduate with the rest of us."

Wally pauses, letting Kuki hitch her bag onto her shoulder in silence before he slowly shifts over to stand closer, one hip perched against her desk. Kuki looks up.

"Well, uh, maybe you could teach me," he says with a grin.

A flirtatious grin. With a dimple.

Is he flirting?

He's flirting.

Kuki panics.

Wally seems to reconsider his words after a few seconds of flustered silence, reddening and shifting backwards out of her space. "Um. Nevermind. I mean you get like B's and stuff so I thought… But uh, I'll get that dork Gabe to help me I guess. He's better at math than you are, so…"

Some resentful feeling deep in Kuki lashes out at that. "What? Now I'm not smart enough?"

Wally's face blanks, then washes over with confusion and mild panic. "Huh? No! That's not what I said!"

"That's exactly what you said!"

"I-I don't think you're dumb, it's just—Gabe is smarter!"

Kuki emits an offended shriek.

"Better at math, I mean! But, uh, he's a total dork! I'd rather have you teach me!"

"Forget it!" Kuki makes to brush past him.

Wally follows her into the hallway. "Seriously! Come on, Kuki!"

Kuki marches straight ahead, fuming.

"C'mon, please? I want you to teach me! Don't be a doofus!"

Kuki spins around. "A _what_? You're the one who needs tutoring!"

"You offered!"

"No, you _asked_!"

"Exactly!"

"Fine, I will! Because _you're_ a doofus!"

"Fine!"

"Your house tomorrow?"

"Fine, see you then!"

"Fine!"

And that, it seems, was that.

Kuki wanders home wondering exactly what just happened, but unable to bring herself to regret it.

* * *

**AN:** UGH I'm sorry this chapter took forever to come out; it was giving me so much trouble for some reason. So much dialogue bleh. Idk how I'm even going to write the precal tutoring. The only reason I passed that class my senior year was because the teacher gave no shits and just kept giving me random extra credit for being hilarious. Don't ever let anyone tell you funny doesn't pay because I once got a free wedge of cheese at Cracker Barrel for making the waitress laugh.

Ask me about updates on my knd blog (link on my profile).

And don't forget to leave a scrumptious review!

Tickle that Toast


	5. The Odd Couple

**AN: **WARNING: MATH.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 5: The Odd Couple**

* * *

Kuki has been tutoring Wally for almost a week now, and in that time they've settled into a fairly comfortable friendship.

After school, Kuki follows him to Downing Street, which everyone usually calls 'Drowning Street' because of the water tower that straddles the neighborhood. Wally's house is the second from the left, a small house with a pool filled with sand in the back and a giant metal foot planted in the front.

Wally's mother usually gets home shortly after he and Kuki get settled at the kitchen table, seven-year-old Joey in tow. Mrs. Beatles is wonderfully talkative, especially about Wally, who sinks lower and lower in his seat with a redder and redder face the longer she keeps talking. Joey takes an immediate liking to Kuki and babbles out stories about the second grade while Wally tries to convince his mom to pour her energy into something else.

Wally's dad, who is surprisingly tall and surprisingly cheerful to have sired such a grumpy little son, is usually pulling in the driveway when it's time for Kuki to leave. He swings Joey through the air and ruffles Wally's hair until they're both laughing and bellows both hello and goodbye when Kuki steps off the front stoop.

The first day, Wally offered to walk her home, but Kuki declined. She isn't sure why.

When she gets home, her ears are ringing.

Mom is at work. Dad is in the office typing on a very quiet keyboard. Mushi has employed the use of very powerful headphones for her angry music.

It's quiet.

* * *

"So, see, it's an infinite discontinuity. You get a value for 'x' that has a zero as the denominator and that's how you know there's a vertical asymptote."

"Uh, what if I got zero over zero?"

"Um…" Kuki flips through her notes. "That means there's a hole in the graph."

"A hole? What does that mean?"

"I don't know, that's just what Mr. Fibb said. You write out the answer like this." She leans over him to demonstrate.

Wally snorts. "Worst tutor ever."

Kuki 'accidentally' lets the pencil slip and elbows him in the stomach.

Wally flops over onto an empty chair, chuckling breathlessly. "Oww, that's abuse!"

Kuki's eye is absolutely _not _drawn to the strip of hipbone that is exposed by his position. "Don't be a baby," she says, looking away to shuffle his notes.

They're sitting at the kitchen table, because that's where they always sit. Kuki hasn't been farther into Wally's house than the kitchen and the short square of hallway to the bathroom. She hasn't even seen his bedroom.

Not that that's something she wants to see.

Definitely not something that is plaguing her mind wondering if he's the type of guy that lets his socks fester mold beneath the bed or if everything goes into a hamper or what posters he has on the wall or whether he has a stereo or a TV and how many pillows he uses—

"Kuki?"

Kuki startles, her eyes jumping up from where they had glazed over staring at Wally's surprisingly neatly drawn graphs.

"Hm? What?"

"I asked about the thing with the ones that go the other way."

"Oh. Uh…" Kuki flips to the section of the notes about horizontal asymptotes. "What thing?"

"The ratio thing. If the denominator and numerator are the same."

Kuki knows that one, and anything about what kind of comforter Wally has drifts right out of her head. "Okay so for that you just take the leading coefficients. So for this one it would be 'y=2/5', because they're both connected to x2. Got it?"

"Uhh…"

"Here, try doing this one"

"Kay." Wally hunches over the problem intently, slowly working down the problem with a furrowed brow. "Is that right?" he asks after a few moments, sitting back.

Kuki looks it over and smiles. "Perfect!"

Wally outright _beams._ "Really?" He stares at the problem in his hand, looking both ecstatic and disbelieving. "Well, whaddaya know."

"I told you you could do it," Kuki points out smugly.

Wally scoffs, but he's smiling as he looks at her. "Guess you did."

Their eyes meet for a bit too long, the contact stretching taught before finally breaking as Wally clears his throat and looks down. "Uh, what about this next section?"

"Um," Kuki clears her throat as well as she looks over his shoulder. "If the degree of the denominator is greater, then it's just 'y=0'. Just work on the next few from the homework and let me know if you get stuck."

Wally nods absentmindedly and goes onto the next problem.

Kuki is confused.

She's never seen Wally actually try in class before she began tutoring him. Even Mr. Fibb noticed the difference. She had written off his poor performance as laziness, but he seems perfectly content to spend several hours on math alone when Kuki is there to help. Maybe there is more to be seen about him than Kuki had assumed.

"Why were you going the other way?" she asks suddenly.

"What?" Wally looks up from the problem he was working on.

"Last week when you bumped into me—"

"You mean when _you _bumped into _me_—"

"—you were going the opposite direction of school. Were you…y'know…skipping?"

Wally's eyes return to the homework sheet, almost abashedly. He shrugs. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? School sucks!" His pencil goes hard and angry on the page.

Kuki crosses her arms. "Bull. You love it when you actually get it."

Not lifting his gaze from his homework, Wally goes red and snaps, "Yeah, but this is the first time I've ever _gotten it_, okay?"

For the first time: silence.

Kuki is quiet. She fidgets in her seat, sorry that she'd pushed.

But Wally goes on, mumbling into the textbook, "You're the best teacher I ever had, really…"

Kuki's cheeks grow warm. "I thought I was the 'worst tutor ever'?"

Wally shrugs, glancing up with a grin. "Maybe not the worst _ever…_"

Kuki smiles. "Shut up and finish your work, dummy."

* * *

**AN: **I had to watch so many how-to math videos for this chapter. I regret everything. This chapter is as bland as the rest. On a good note, I have finally begun to hit my stride here, and already have the next few chapters planned out/halfway written. Things will (hopefully) get more interesting. So yay!

Next time: More familiar faces!

Leave me a delicious review~

Tickle that toast.


	6. Happy Days Are Here (Again)

**AN: **This was a difficult chapter to work with as far as order of events go! Eventually I decided it would be best to split the chapter up since it was longer than usual anyway. So the next chapter might be fairly short (?not sure?), but I will upload it probably within the next few days. The chapter after that is my favorite and will probs be up the week after!

**Disclaimer: **I have forgotten to do these lately. Doesn't mean KND is any more mine.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 6: Happy Days are Here (Again)**

* * *

The dreams are increasingly worse the next few nights. And increasingly vivid. Kuki takes to keeping ibuprofen by her bed for the blinding headaches she has when she wakes. She doesn't know what to do.

She keeps passing by that old treehouse, but when she's asleep it seems so much bigger. Someone is waving at her from the window. She's happy.

In the daytime everything is in muted colors; the treehouse is barely more than junk.

In the moments between sleep and wakefulness, she isn't sure which one is real.

* * *

Though Kuki has found a new friend in Wally, none of their friendship ever seems to be expressed outside of Pre-Cal and their shared afternoons. For the majority of the day it's like nothing has changed. Kuki walks to school alone, goes to her classes as usual, and eats lunch with her friends.

(Abby still seems to be ignoring her; Econ is getting difficult to follow but Kuki is hesitant to ask her for help again.)

Her day goes on and it's almost as if Wally Beatles is someone she dreamed up, someone who doesn't even exist.

However, when it's time for the last class of the day, it's like a switch is flipped in Kuki's brain. At the forefront of her mind is suddenly _Wally_, and their desks get progressively closer to each other every day and their whispered conversations become less and less math-related.

Wally talks about his little brother getting to skip first grade with a tone that lies somewhere between annoyance and gut-bursting pride and complains about how the basketball tryouts are 'rigged'. Kuki talks only briefly about Mushi, who is going through a fairly gothic rebellious phase that requires her to wear increasingly dark clothes and listen to increasingly angry music and sneak out the window at night to wander around because she actually has nothing to do in the middle of the night and she's too scared to go too far from home. It would be funny if it didn't make Kuki so sad.

Sometimes Wally will slip her notes with corny jokes or unflattering drawings of Mr. Fibb with 80s hair and bull horns. Kuki has to bite her fist to keep from laughing.

When Kuki passes him notes, she folds them into origami figures because she's discovered it's extremely entertaining watching Wally try to figure out how to unravel it.

And because it's sort of endearing that he's so careful not to rip it, and that he tries his best to fold it back into a crane with his response inside, even though it looks more like a flattened biplane.

Okay, maybe 'friendship' is the wrong word.

Well, it's the right word for now, but maybe Kuki is hoping it will be a more temporary label.

Maybe she likes him.

A bit.

He's cute when he's confused.

He's even cute when cowering in Mr. Fibb's shadow; it turns out that the teacher's droll voice doesn't have another setting even when faced with a very uncomplimentary drawing of himself.

* * *

Lunch the next day is one of those super-greasy grilled cheese sandwiches that are sealed up on the sides. As if Kuki's week couldn't get any worse.

As she makes her way over to her friends, Kuki feels eyes on her. She glances over just as Abby ducks her head, but Henrietta gives a little wave. Kuki is somehow afraid to wave back, and simply hunches her shoulders and walks faster, the humiliation of the previous week crashing down again.

Fanny is waving her down before Kuki even gets to the table.

"Hey, Kuki! You ready to see Bloodspillers III: Cardiac Revenge on Friday?"

Kuki wrinkles her nose. She doesn't even like scary movies, but somehow she always gets roped into whatever Fanny wants to do. She can't even count the number of times she's played laser tag with her. Admittedly, the consistent invitations are probably an attempt by Fanny to finally win a game. Kuki can't help if she has killer aim. "I can't. I've got detention."

Fanny, rather than being either disappointed or sympathetic, scowls and rolls her eyes. "Just great. Now I have to take Oliver." She sits back down, fuming. Kuki wonders when Fanny and Oliver's relationship turned back on again.

Kuki sits next to Virginia, who is laughing in her face. "Detention? You? What did you do, smile too much?"

Kuki makes an effort to laugh along with her. "I was, uh, caught passing notes in Pre-Cal."

"Whaaat?" It's Lizzie who speaks, pulling herself away from her boyfriend, who decided to sit with them today. "Who passes notes anymore? Why didn't you just text?"

Kuki is saved from answering 'because I don't have his number and it would probably be weird to ask because I'm just his tutor' when Virginia replies with a dismissive wave, "Leave her alone, it's cute."

Eve rolls her eyes over mashed potatoes. She always manages to get the really good lunches that are always gone by third lunch, somehow. "Who do you even know in your Pre-Cal class, anyway?"

"Uh… Wally Beatles."

No one has much of a reaction to the name except Eve, who practically chokes on her milk. "What?"

Kuki, confused, echos, "What?"

"_Wally Beatles?_ That pint-sized jerk with the bowl-cut?"

Something ugly stirs in Kuki's chest. "I guess?"

Eve's eyes go shifty, shooting briefly over to Lizzie's boyfriend and back to Kuki. "Listen to me right now: stay away from him."

"What? He's nice. Well, not _nice_ nice, but—"

"Just stay away from him Kuki. I don't want you hanging around with that guy."

Anger boils up in Kuki's throat. "_Excuse me?_"

"Trust me, you're better off sticking with us. That guy is bad news. Am I right?" she looks to Lizzie's baldheaded boyfriend, who looks surprised to be addressed.

He stutters, "Uh, I don't really-"

"Bad news," Eve repeats, turning back to her food. The movement is to casual not to be deliberate. She's nodding to herself, ending the conversation, assuming her own righteousness.

It occurs to Kuki that Eve is only nice when things are going her way.

It also occurs to Kuki that she doesn't actually like her very much.

"Shut up," Kuki fires back.

The table falls silent. Mashed potatoes hover uncertainly on Eve's fork.

Kuki takes this as encouragement to continue. "You don't know anything, okay? You don't. And you can't tell me what to do, you're not my mother! You're supposed to be my friend!"

"Am I?" Eve shoots back, abandoning her food. "Are we your friends, Kuki? First you ditch us for the student council snobs who—by the way—have completely dropped you if you didn't think we noticed, and now you're biting the bullet for some stupid guy with a Napoleon complex? Grow up. You never belonged with them and you never will again. They're trash."

Kuki rockets up from her seat. Her heart is pounding. Her face is aflame. Her hands, curled into tight fists, are shaking at her sides. She's not sure what she meant to do or say, but blind fury whites out everything but Eve's condescending smirk.

For a moment, Kuki sees. It's a mask. Panic clouds Eve's icy blue eyes.

She's afraid.

Virginia pulls Kuki back to her seat, attempting to defuse the situation by leaning into the space between Eve and Kuki. "C'mon, guys, calm down. It's not a big deal. No girl fights in the caf, okay?"

Kuki hears her words through a haze of white noise. Fury shakes her bones. Words boil up that are not said as everyone awkwardly returns to their lunches and previous conversations.

Kuki realizes every word is to defend Wally and Abby.

Not one spare thought is for Eve or Fanny or Virginia or Lizzie or Pete or Peter; her _friends._

Her friends?

The anger clears from Kuki's mind as if wiped away by an invisible hand.

Her friends.

Kuki deflates in her seat, stress tears burning in her eyes.

These are her friends.

A touch to her hand causes Kuki to blink in surprise, a tear falling down her cheek. She looks down at her hands, which are clenched tightly on the hem of her sweater beneath the table. A pale hand rests atop hers with a red sleeve attached.

Kuki glances up at the table's occupants. Lizzie's boyfriend is gazing gently at her, painfully sympathetic and quietly righteous behind dark glasses. The touch isn't suggestive or inappropriate. It's like the soothing presence of a lifelong friend or loyal big brother. It feels like he'd be hugging her if he could, and she would probably let him.

Swallowing her upset, Kuki thanks him with a grateful smile, which is returned with a tiny nod. His hand slips away.

_My friends._

* * *

Kuki wakes up at 3am, covered in sweat and panting from some unidentified nightmare that slips away the moment she sits up.

Her head throbs with pain.

All she can remember is empty, endless space through a tiny window. And something Eve said that day echoing through it all.

_"You never belonged with them and you never will again."_

Kuki lays awake for hours, the words spinning through her head.

_Again._

* * *

**AN: **Oliver=Numbuh 19th Century; I fashioned his name from the fact that 86 once called him an 'Oliver Twist reject'.

Next time: Self-doubt, self-isolation and some kid in a pilot's helmet (?)

Don't forget to drop a nutritious review on my plate! (the food puns are getting worse and worse)

Tickle that toast.


	7. An Infinite Discontinuity

**AN: **Okay, so this chapter is NOT short. It is more than twice as long as usual. At first I was gonna split it up again, but then I realized I would have to come up with another chapter title so I came to a conclusion of 'who the hell cares' and here we are. A LOT goes on in this chapter. Let me know if you guys prefer the longer ones (The other ones are super short, I know, but they're easier to get out on a weekly basis). I'm excited for the next chapter!

PLOT IS HAPPENING FINALLY PLEASE TELL ME IF IT IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE

**Disclaimer: **I got a new mouse but the payment was not applicable toward the rights for KND.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 7: An Infinite Discontinuity**

* * *

"You're kinda quiet today, Kuki. Somethin' got your pants in a knot?"

Though Kuki appreciates Wally's tactful attempt at avoiding the word 'panties,' she replies shortly, "I'm fine, keep working on problems 33 through 38."

It's the day after Eve went batshit and Kuki is swimming in a sea of doubt. Her friends are pretending the fight never happened and Kuki found herself following suit without even thinking about it. No use stirring up trouble, right? It's not a big deal.

It's not.

She just hasn't been feeling like herself lately.

Truth be told, though, she isn't exactly sure what 'herself' is supposed to feel like anymore.

"I'll take that as a yes," Wally mumbles as he hunches over the homework. "Is is because we got detention? Because it was so your fault."

"It was your stupid drawing," Kuki points out.

"Yeah, but you got caught with it, butterfingers," he replies with an air of fondness.

Kuki smiles, just a little. "It could've been worse. They used to read notes out loud when you got caught until everyone switched to texting."

"Yeah," Wally says thoughtfully.

Kuki panics, sure he is about to ask for her number.

Not that she doesn't want that.

Does she want that?

Is that weird?

Do friends ask for each other's cell phone numbers? Kuki can't remember. Her hands are sweating.

Kuki scrambles for another topic, grabbing the homework she'd been working on for inspiration. "Thirty-three through thirty-eight, come on Wally."

He groans theatrically as he slumps back over his work.

There is no doubt in her mind that the things Eve was saying yesterday aren't true.

Okay, maybe a little bit of doubt? She spent most of their tutoring session yesterday indecisive and half ignoring him. After all, she's only known him a few weeks. She's known Eve for years. Maybe…

Wally looks up and catches her eye. Kuki's train of thought screeches to a halt as he offers her a dimpled smile.

No. Eve is wrong. She has to be.

"What? Something on my face or am I that handsome?" Wally asks, the momentarily kind smile morphing into a more familiar smirk.

Kuki is saved from replying when the front door slams open and Wally's mother steps into view, Joey trailing behind with a smiling, dirty face.

Mrs. Beatles's eyes are on _fire._

"'Boys will be boys' my sweet arse! Fighting in the classroom! I don't know how I managed to raise such violent heathens!"

"I kicked their butts," Joey says proudly to his big brother.

"Attaboy," Wally replies, ruffling Joey's hair.

"Don't encourage him!," their mother shouts, slamming her purse down on the table with enough force to rattle Kuki's glass of water like something out of Jurassic Park. "I do not want my boys fighting, especially at school! Violence is never the answer, right Kuki?"

Kuki hesitates, surprised and a little intimidated by being brought into the family argument. "Uhh…" She should probably agree, tell Joey that fighting is bad and never solves anything and blah blah blah. Because that's what she thinks, right? Kuki Sanban never fights out her problems. She's a peaceful person.

"Well it depends," Kuki finds herself saying. "Were they bad guys, Joey?"

"Yeah!" Joey says assuredly. "They were trying to look up Marcie Millan's skirt!"

"Then you did good," Kuki tells him, reaching out for a high five despite herself.

Joey smacks her hand hard and runs off, giggling madly up the stairs.

"Joey Beatles, wipe that mud off your face!" Mrs. Beatles calls, running after her youngest child.

Kuki stares after them, odd tingles spreading from her spine to her fingers. She wants to run. She wants to run and jump and turn cartwheels and backflips. She squeezes her right hand and feels like it's missing something.

"Dang, Kooks," Wally laughs. "My mum is never letting you in the house again."

Kuki feels odd.

Very distinctly odd.

Like just really, really weird in a very specific way.

"Maybe I should go apologize," she says dazedly, gazing at her empty right hand.

"Nah," Wally replies, but Kuki hears it as if through a haze. "She loves you."

Her brain is buzzing.

It hurts.

"I gotta go to the bathroom." Kuki bolts abruptly from the room.

Her legs are shaking. She takes deep breaths as she enters the hall, leaning against the wooden-slat wall lined with photos.

The first is a wedding photo of two smiling blondes in their early twenties. They hold a two-year-old Wally between them.

The next is a hospital picture of a red-faced newborn with a fuzz of yellow hair. He's wearing a deep frown.

Kuki smiles. Her heart skips, slows, and she regains her footing as she moves along the wall.

After come a series of photos depicting Wally through about age ten, until another baby begins to show up.

Kuki is only halfway down the extensive wall of pictures when she comes to one taken in the backyard of the house. A ten or eleven-year-old Wally stands front and center, arms crossed over a bare chest, a scattering of friends in bathing suits posing around him.

There's a chubby kid in goggles who Kuki thinks might go to their school now, a bald kid with sunglasses being held tightly by a girl who looks a lot like Lizzie…

Kuki pauses; she moves closer.

The next girl is black with a long braid twirling out from under a red hat.

Kuki's breath speeds back up. Her head aches. Tremors get her supporting herself on the wall again.

The next girl is perhaps the least – and most – recognizable. Her grin is wide and carefree. Her arms are around Wally's stiff shoulders.

It's her.

Kuki's heart stops dead.

Then it slams straight up into her throat.

She chokes and stumbles back, crashing into the opposite wall.

That's _her. _Eleven-year-old Kuki, smiling and happy in a place she's never been to with people she's never even met.

Her head hurts.

Colors are swimming together.

Wally is there, suddenly, his words muffled by the roaring in Kuki's ears.

It's her.

He was there, too.

He _knows _her.

He never said anything. Not one word.

All this time and…

She had _friends._

Kuki wriggles away, muttering panicked excuses that she barely even registers.

Then she's out the door.

Then she runs.

Her head hurts.

* * *

It's raining, but of course it is.

Kuki runs down the sidewalk. She doesn't know where. Home?

Home.

No one will be there.

Though her mind is racing and her stomach is churning, Kuki's legs manage to get her to the right street before she knows what happened.

She's through the front door.

She's not alone.

Mushi calls out her name, half in concern. The other half is annoyance, but that's pretty much a requirement at thirteen.

Suddenly, Kuki can't remember when she even last spoke to her sister.

The photo flashes in her mind, and suddenly it's all too much.

Kuki bursts into tears.

"What? What did I do?!" Mushi stutters uneasily.

Kuki sits down on the floor, bawling like a child.

The house isn't empty.

* * *

With some awkward fumbling and only a little bit of muttered contempt, Mushi manages to bundle Kuki into bed with hot cocoa and a few magazines.

She'd left all her homework at Wally's.

Though Kuki tries to read, the words keep swimming in front of her eyes, replacing themselves with the smiles of the familiar strangers in the picture.

Kuki continues to wonder; is it real?

Why would Wally have that photo on the wall?

Why did he never _say _anything?

What does Abby know?

Her head hurts.

* * *

In the morning, Kuki is frenzied.

She feels like a crazy person, jittery and looking over her shoulder on the walk to school.

The treehouse looms.

Kuki stops to stare at it for far too long.

Abby does not meet her eyes when Kuki enters the classroom, but that has become the norm the past week or so.

Kuki stares at her.

She sits, hair unbrushed, one leg bouncing, and waits.

And stares.

Her head hurts.

The moment the bell rings, Kuki is up and practically chasing Abby out the door and down the hall.

When Kuki catches her arm and Abby spins around, for a moment she feels like all her questions are about to be answered. Abby will explain. It's all a joke. Her and her friends planted that picture because Kuki was stupid enough to think she was included. None of it is real. Abby will explain, and it will all be okay.

The question that comes to Kuki's lips first is, "Are we friends?"

Abby blinks. She opens her mouth.

"I mean _were _we?" Kuki quickly amends, reddening. "When we were kids? You and me and Wally?"

Abby's eyes widen and dart around anxiously. Her bicep flexes beneath Kuki's palm. "Uh, Kuki, I'm kind a hungry, can you-"

"Answer me, Abby, please!" Kuki begins to sound desperate, even to her own ears. "I found this photo, and-"

Abby's steely eyes lock onto her own, stopping Kuki's voice in its tracks. "What photo?"

"At Wally's house, on the wall, it...all of us and these kids I don't know but I do...or I did. Please, Abby, I feel like I'm going crazy! I _remember _things I…things that never happened! I keep getting these awful headaches like something's sawing my brain in half and I know you know _something_! Please, tell me! Tell me what the treehouse means! It's okay if you don't want to hang out anymore, just tell me I'm not crazy!"

Abby's eyes dart somewhere behind Kuki's shoulder, and for a moment the panic Kuki feels is reflected in her eyes.

"You're crazy." Abby says bluntly.

Deep down, Kuki feels something shatter.

"Let me go," Abby demands, shaking off Kuki's grip.

Kuki lets her go and Abby brushes past her without another word.

Shaky and stunned, Kuki turns to look after her and stops cold.

Standing with his back against the lockers is Abby's friend Phil. Even through his sunglasses, Kuki can feel him staring her down.

Then he smiles, and there is not a scarier thing he could have done.

Kuki flees, more scared and hurt and confused than ever.

* * *

Detention is served that day after Pre-Cal. Mr. Fibb sits morosely at his desk while Kuki and Wally grade homework from opposite sides of the room.

It's boring. And monotonous. But they aren't allowed to talk, which for today is good.

He'd returned the things she left at his house before class started and passed her a few concerned notes afterwards. She was barely more than cordial for the former and didn't reply to the latter.

Everything is too weird right now, and she doesn't know if she's more angry or hurt or confused.

Kuki steals furtive glances at Wally from beneath her hair.

Well, confused is probably at the top of the list.

He's so _familiar_.

"I am going to the restroom," a dull voice interrupts her thoughts. Mr. Fibb is standing and heading toward the door. "I will return in two minutes."

Kuki panics.

Mr. Fibb is barely out the door before Wally is out of his desk and sneaking over to crouch beside Kuki's. Her cheeks heat when he grins up at her, chin propped up on the desk table. "This sucks," he says cheerfully.

"Yeah," Kuki murmurs. She keeps hovering the tip of her pen over the paper as if she's reading the answers, but she's too aware of Wally's presence to take any of it in.

"Okay, what's your problem, Kuki?"

_"What's your problem, Num-?"_

Kuki blinks. Is there an echo? "Nothing. I just don't feel good, okay?"

Wally frowns. She can feel him beginning to form a question on his tongue, and quickly disarms him.

"Hey, what kind of name is Hoagie, anyway?" she asks suddenly, eyeing the name scribbled at the top of the page she's working on.

Wally shrugs. "Uh, it's a sandwich, Kuki."

"Well, I know that." Kuki squints at the name, suddenly sure she's seen that scrawl before. Hoagie P. Gilligan. No, it's definitely familiar. "Do you know him?"

Wally opens his mouth and then pauses, jaw hovering without forming words. His brow furrows and his eyes dart around the test paper in Kuki's hand. "Uh… no," he finally answers. "I've never met him."

"Neither have I."

Wally darts back to his seat as Mr. Fibb returns, the threads of the conversation left dangling. Relieved, Kuki returns to her work, but the careful loops of Hoagie P. Gilligan's homework continue to catch her eye from the bottom of the stack. She hasn't met him. She's sure of it. She's never even heard of him.

The sound of jet planes taking off pounds in Kuki's head. Helicopter blades. Whirring gears.

Her head hurts.

Hoagie P. Gilligan got a perfect score.

* * *

Kuki jolts awake at 3am. This time, it's not due to a nightmare.

There is a gentle tapping on her window.

Kuki stills, slowly rolling over to see something dark beyond the venire curtains. Like there is someone crouched at the windowsill.

Fear spikes in Kuki's chest and spreads through her limbs in a cold chill. Her fingers tighten on the blankets. She tucks in her chin. Her eyes remain focused, unblinking, on the figure knock-knocking on the glass.

She makes the decision not to move. She makes the decision to sit and wait for it to leave.

She gets up.

More silently than Kuki thought was possible of herself, she slips out of bed and tiptoes to her propped-open closet, where her mom keeps some of her college stuff. Kuki pulls out a lacrosse stick and brandishes it like a spear.

She moves slowly toward the window, and the dark figure who has stopped knocking.

As Kuki watches, heart pounding out a staccato rhythm and safely invisible in the shadows of her room, the shadow pulls something out of its clothes. It shines silver in the moonlight.

A knife.

Kuki twitches, fear washing through her and right back out again. Her tongue slams into the roof of her mouth to keep from crying out for help. Instead, she adjusts her grip on the crosse and widens her stance instinctively.

She knows what to do.

The knife slips into the break between the top and bottom of the window, expertly wriggling both locks free.

Kuki rocks back on her heels.

The window slides open.

Kuki tenses to spring.

The hooded figure comes into the room.

She knows what to do.

Kuki lunges out of the darkness.

The base of the stick slaps flatly into the intruder's hand. They let out a noise of surprise as the knife clatters to the floor.

Not missing a beat, Kuki adjusts her stance again and jabs out with the crosse.

The figure is clearly shocked at the ambush, but reacts, blocking the gut shot with an elbow to redirect the point.

Kuki rolls with the momentum of the crosse, swinging around the other end and aiming it for the figure's head.

The intruder drops down. It's too dark to see when Kuki's legs are swept out from under her.

Pain shoots up from Kuki's tailbone when she lands hard, lacrosse stick clattering across the floor, out of reach. A foot plants itself solidly on Kuki's chest, pushing her down with surprising strength.

Kuki grabs at the ankle, trying to twist it away, but the figure holds firm, keeping her down.

"Damn. You still got it," a voice says.

Kuki tenses. She knows that voice.

The figure reaches up and pulls down their hood, revealing a familiar silhouette.

"Kuki, we need to talk."

* * *

**AN: **Not actually sure what the real age difference is between Kuki and Mushi. Soo chapters should be getting longer now? Plot is happening!

Next time: Some fun Abby and Henrietta! Agh, I love 'em.


	8. Welcome To The Human Race

**AN: HELLA LONG CHAPTER YEA! **Um, warning for more adulty themes? It's not racy or anything, but it's clear in the text that Abby and Henrietta have a physical relationship. No sexytimes are in the chapter, obviously. But be prepared anyway. I dunno. They're so cute.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 8: Welcome to the Human Race**

* * *

Abby's phone rings in the middle of the night.

Blearily, she slaps her hand around on the bedside table until she fits the slim plastic in her palm and slaps it against the side of her head.

"'Lo?" she answers. The ringing goes on.

Oh, she thinks. It must be the _other_ phone.

Dropping her cell on the mattress, Abby dips her hands under her headboard and feels around for a moment. She feels a divot under her fingers and presses, and another mobile falls out into her hand. This one is far chunkier than the other, affixed with random bits of wire and a base made of splintery wood. She presses the answer button, fashioned from a bottle cap, and lifts the receiver to her ear.

"Numbah 5-T, reporting."

"Wow, that is kind of sexy," a familiar voice replies.

Abby laughs, the soldier-ready squaring of her shoulders slumping back down. "Heinie, how'd you get on this line?"

"C'mon, Candy Lips, go back to the other voice, that was really doing it for me."

"How did you get on this line, Heinie," Abby repeats, firmer, but still smiling into the dark of her room.

"You know me. I know things. I know people. I may have swiped it from Jason's gym bag. Will you be taking bets on how long it takes him to notice?"

Abby laughs again but says nothing, relaxing back into her pillows. When Henrietta wants to talk about something, she always pulls some kind of trick to make herself too lovable to be angry at. Abby waits for her to start.

"So, about your friend Kuki…"

Here it comes, Abby thinks, rolling her eyes.

"Was the other week a test? Bringing her to lunch?"

Abby sighs. "I don't know."

"Then what? Are you going to recruit her into your um… 'secret club'? The one I don't actually know about, of course."

"No, Heinie," Abby replies, a little sharper than she'd intended. "Kuki didn't make the cut. Abby's in, she's out. She's been wiped, end of story."

Henrietta pauses. "…Did you think she would remember? Seeing all of us?"

Abby rubs the bridge of her nose. It is way too late to be talking about this. "I don't know. She was saying some stuff she couldn't have known, and she ran into Wally; Abby… _I_ thought he might have triggered something—"

"Abby, you've been decommissioned before. You know how it works. There's nothing there to trigger. Again, not that I know anything about that."

"It was stupid and selfish. Infinity made it clear to stay away from her."

"Yes, extra clear now. Does he even go to class, or does he just lurk in corners and wait?"

Abby doesn't laugh. "I just…"

The voice on the other line softens, and Abby can almost feel Henrietta's sympathetic arms around her.

"You just missed your friend," she replies.

Abby's friend was a twelve-year-old girl with happy grins and a welcoming heart who loved silly cartoons with unashamed enthusiasm and could knock the brains out of a six foot adult with a laugh and a well-placed kick.

Kuki Sanban, the skinny girl in well-fit sweater tees who waits to be spoken to before she says a word and will quietly ponder a smile before it is given is not her.

But for a moment she _was. _Almost. Abby saw her.

But it's stupid to get her hopes caught up.

Abby sighs. "Guess I did. But she's gone."

Henrietta gives her a moment of sympathetic silence that Abby loves her for.

"So you gonna let me go to sleep now, babe?"

"Nope. Can't sleep. Come over."

"It's almost four in the morning."

"It's ten in the morning in Germany."

"Then you would still be asleep."

Henrietta huffs, and Abby's mood instantly brightens. "Tell me a story, then."

"Fine. So this one time a fly breached the perimeter in the treehouse…"

* * *

There is a blue pen and a red pen on Abby's desk. The Econ notes are projected at the front of the room. Her hand hovers over the pens and drops, hesitating.

Abby wishes she could say it's Infinity's orders keeping her away. In reality, she's ashamed. She'd tried to worm her way back into Kuki's life, back into her _head_, with no regards for her safety.

Infinity's angry words echo in her head.

_"Any decommissioned operative seen even in our near _vicinity _is in danger. You can't rope her into this when she doesn't know the severity of her situation! If her mind becomes aware of all the blank spots in her memory, it will _rebel. _It will _break. _Not only our you posing a danger to your ex-teammate, you put our entire organization in jeopardy! It's bad enough your girlfriend has thrust herself into the equation, but an ex-operative with Sanban's history paling around with you could blow our entire mission out of the water! Stay away from her, or you're visiting the chamber for real this time."_

Henrietta would say Phil is a drama queen. Which is true. But he's also insanely influential, far more so than Abby.

Her finger taps on the blue pen.

Kuki has been complaining about headaches. Maybe it's already started. Maybe Abby has already broken her. Maybe it would be better to crack it all at once.

The red pen rolls beneath her palm.

She feels sick. It's never been this hard to balance orders and emotions. There has always been right or wrong, and Abby has always been certain which was which and what she should do. People look to her to make decisions.

So should she use the _damn red or the blue_?

Kuki's eyes bore into her back.

* * *

Rachel and Chad form a united front between Abby and Infinity, silent but unwavering while they sip nonchalantly at their milk. Infinity – because he's only Phil when he's being nice – hasn't said another word about Kuki or any other former members of sector V since Abby agreed to keep her distance. He seems quietly pleased.

Henrietta holds Abby's hand beneath the table, occasionally digging a sharp knuckle into her thigh when she senses Abby is getting lost in her thoughts. Abby doesn't know what she'd do without her.

Kuki is crossing the cafeteria. Their eyes meet.

Abby looks away. Kuki needs to live her own life.

Her gaze slides to the right, where a boy in an aviator cap sits with the wood shop kids, gesturing wildly with his lanky arms to some unheard joke.

They all do.

She has to let them go.

(ruler)

She doesn't expect one of them to latch on to _her._

Kuki's grip is tight on her arm, her eyes manic as they dart between Abby's eyes.

"Are we friends?" she squeaks. "I mean _were _we? When we were kids? You, me, and Wally?"

A cold chill runs down Abby's spine. _What? _She tenses, poised to flee, automatically scanning for exit routes.

"Uh, Kuki, I'm kinda hungry, can you—"

"Answer me, Abby, please! I found this photo, and-"

"What photo?" Abby interrupts her quickly, her attention snapping forward. When an operative is decommissioned, it's not just their memories that are removed. A squad combs through their life and removes anything and everything from their life in KND. How could they have missed something as obvious as a _photo_?

Her eyes meet Kuki's for the first time in days.

And they're _Kuki's._ Wide and emotional, alive, finally. But ringed red with panic and confusion.

"At Wally's house, on the wall, it...all of us and these kids I don't know but I do...or I did. Please, Abby, I feel like I'm going crazy! I _remember _things I…things that never happened! I keep getting these awful headaches like something's sawing my brain in half and I know you know _something_! Please, tell me! Tell me what the treehouse means!"

Abby's breathing speeds up. Her mind goes white. It's not possible. It's not. There's _nothing there to remember._

Something behind Kuki's shoulder catches Abby's eye. She didn't realize they'd been drawing a crowd.

Infinity is standing there, swathed in black, his sunglasses reflecting the scene. He doesn't have to say a word. He rarely does. Abby can feel the judgment and the threat rolling off of him in waves.

_Stay away from her, or you're visiting the chamber for real this time._

"It's okay if you don't want to hang out anymore, just tell me I'm not crazy!"

Abby slowly rolls her gaze back to Kuki, her heart twisting in agony. But Abby has always been good at keeping her cool.

"You're crazy."

She can almost see Kuki's heart breaking, but she can't afford to care. She shakes off Kuki's slack grip, muttering "Let me go." Kuki lets her.

Abby walks away, but she allows herself one glare at Phil, whose blank shades glint with "I told you so".

* * *

Henrietta is a terrible person to vent to – she makes too many unnecessary comments – but she makes an effort for Abby. Usually.

"Wow," Henrietta deadpans when Abby finishes relating the story to her. "We should call _Lifetime_, I've got a great idea for a movie."

Abby rolls her eyes, burying her face into Henrietta's pillow. The thick fabric is cool against her face, the smell of her girlfriend's shampoo calming her slightly.

Every color in Henrietta's room could be attributed to a fruit. The walls are cantaloupe, the bedspread is apricot, the pillows and curtains are pale watermelon lace; it's an explosion of various pinks, reds, and oranges that shouldn't work together but somehow do. And because Henrietta is so frigging perfect, it's meticulously clean.

Abby loves it, mostly because it's everything she would never catch herself dead in. Her own room is haphazardly thrown together with every thought to comfort and practicality and none towards aesthetics.

But she's distracting herself.

"Hey, come on," Henrietta urges, flopping down on top of her. "Talk to me."

Lifting her face from the pillow, Abby huffs a breath and wriggles onto her back, Henrietta settling half on top of her with her arms crossed over Abby's chest. One leg is hiked up, pale beneath her deep red pajama shorts. The first thing Henrietta always does when she gets home is change out of her pants. High-waisted jeans, as great as they look, aren't comfortable for cuddling. Her braids are down so her blonde hair falls in sharp waves down her back and shoulders, glasses perched on the tip of her nose like the best of sexy librarian fantasies.

"So she does remember?" Henrietta goes on, refusing to let Abby get sidetracked.

Abby lets a breath out, flapping her lips frustratedly. "She remembers _something_. I don't know." The look on Kuki's face when she'd called her crazy still hurts.

"Well, that's great!"

Abby sighs, sitting up. Henrietta slides off her reluctantly, settling against the headboard with their sides pressed together.

"No, hon, it's not. Even if she does remember…something, I still can't go near her without Infinity flipping a shit. So she's all alone with her head messed up and…I think I broke her."

"It's not your fault, it-"

"Of course it is. I was selfish and I got too close."

"But what about that other kid? The one with the Napoleon Complex."

"What about him? You think he's in the same way?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he's the one that freaked out Kuki's head."

Abby rubs a hand down her face. She needs to _sleep._ "It doesn't really matter. But I don't know what to do."

"Be a rebel," Henrietta suggests, squeezing her hand. "As I recall, things always tend to go your way regardless of head-honcho dicks in sunglasses. Whomever they may be."

Abby huffs a laugh. "Because I had a _plan._ Things are different now."

"But she _remembers, _Abigail! Just go clandestine and-"

"The thing is, that _never _happens! No one remembers; like you said, there's nothing there to remember!"

"Okay, one: you've got to stop interrupting me. Two: apparently there _is._"

Abby stares at her, desperate to understand. Henrietta has her 'epiphany face' going on. "How?"

"In my AP Bio class," – Abby rolls her eyes at the 'AP' distinction; Henrietta never lets her forget that she's dating a prodigy – "we've been learning about disease prevention and vaccinations, which work with your body's defenses by introducing the immune system to a nonviral strain early-on so it can prepare to fight the same viruses in the future, only viruses tend to evolve to get around them which is why it's important to get vaccinated every ten years or however long that particular vaccine requires for—"

"Heinie! Point! Make it!"

"You know how you tell me stories about all that stuff that totally didn't happen?"

"Yeah?"

"Well…if I recall correctly, in one of those stories all the main characters got their memories wiped and then un-wiped, and assuming the body reacts to the machine's neurological impulses in the same way as it would a virus and the machine hasn't been changed at all since that event, then…"

A slow realization dawns over Abby's face. "She's fighting back. They all are."

Henrietta sits back smugly, twirling a strand of hair between her slender fingers. "It appears so. I knew your friends were stubborn, but—"

Abby grabs her face and shuts her up with a hard kiss on the mouth. "You're a genius, babe!"

Henrietta grins, looking a little flustered between Abby's palms. "You got a plan?"

"I got a plan."

* * *

So it came to this: dressing in a black hoodie and sweatpants, sneaking into a window in the middle of the night, and nearly getting her butt kicked. But even when she was in practice, Kuki could never beat her at hand-to-hand, and she ends up on the floor with Abby's foot on her chest.

"Damn, you still got it," Abby praises, pleased.

Recognition flashes in Kuki's moonlit face, and Abby pulls back her hood, thinking that Henrietta would love the dramatic effect.

"Kuki. We need to talk."

* * *

**AN: **Ok I officially love Abby and Heinie. Sorry you guys waited so long for a chapter that did literally nothing to forward the plot, lol. Don't let anyone tell you that your junior year of college will be a breeze. Not that anyone would tell you that. Because it's not. Anyway. This story is fourth or fifth on my list of priorities right now, but I will do my utmost to continue it at a steadier rate. Thanks for your patience!

Don't think too hard about the science here. I didn't.

BTW: I know there's been a serious lack of 3x4 recently, but it will be getting heavier, I promise. It's just not the main priority of the story right now. :)

Please leave me an aromatic review!

Tickle that Toast.


	9. Kids Say The Darndest Things

**AN: **An update! It's a miracle! Lots of meat in this one. I guess. The plot is being furthered. It is short, though, but I like the place it ends at and I wanted to get something out this week. Enjoy!

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 9: Kids Say The Darndest Things**

* * *

_"Kuki. We need to talk."_

The dark figure – _Abby, it's Abby, why is it Abby_ – leans down to help her up, assistance that Kuki takes before she remembers she's angry at her. It's okay to call Kuki crazy in public, but they're friends when no one is around?

Strangely, the first thing that ends up coming out of Kuki's mouth is "I have a phone, you know. We could avoid the whole 'coming through the window' thing by just calling my phone."

Abby just shakes her head, beginning to wander around Kuki's room like she owns it, pressing her ear to the door and peering into the corners. "Not secure. Can't have anyone listening in. Not at school, either."

Kuki crosses her arms. "Why—" she pauses, noticing how Abby all but disappears when she steps out of the moonlight pouring in through the window. "What are you wearing? You look like a cat burglar."

"Hey. Fooled you, didn't it?" Teeth flash in the darkness, and Kuki shivers. Suddenly she thinks that Abby may in fact be very, very dangerous. She takes a step back, toward the lacrosse stick sitting abandoned on the floor.

"What are you doing here, Abby?"

Abby's expression sobers, and, apparently abandoning her expert perusal of dusty corners filled with old Beanie Babies, moves forward. She centers herself in Kuki's line of sight, purposefully, Kuki thinks, to allow her a greater sense of security against a perceived threat. It feels manipulative.

"Like Abby said. We gotta talk," Abby replies coolly.

Kuki crosses her arms. "I thought we already talked. Seemed pretty definitive to me."

Abby sighs heavily, wiping a hand down her face. "I'm sorry. It wasn't safe there."

"At _school_?" Kuki replies incredulously.

"Yes."

Phil's cold smile flashes in Kuki's memory. The shadows in her room seem to deepen, pulling themselves from beneath the furniture and out of the crack in the closet door to stretch toward her with grasping, greedy hands.

Kuki sits down on the edge of her bed and pulls up her feet. "So you broke into my house," she replies flatly.

Suddenly awkward in a way she never is, Abby tilts her head from side to side in a 'whoops, yeah, kinda' gesture. "Not with the intention of kicking your butt to the floor, I promise."

Kuki fights not to argue with that. Instead she draws herself up and crosses her arms, as if she could physically protect herself from whatever Abby was going to say. "Then talk. I have to get up for school in four hours."

Abby has the nerve to look hurt. "Look, Kuki, I'm sorry."

"Save it," Kuki snaps back. There's something satisfying about how it makes Abby flinch, about sitting comfortably on the moral high ground. "Just tell me what you came here to tell me."

Abby takes a long, deep breath. She looks almost afraid. "Okay, Kuki, here's the deal. It's gonna sound crazy, so I'm just gonna spit it out."

Kuki dryly raises her eyebrows.

Abby takes another breath and seems to be steeling herself for a blow. Then she speaks. "You used to be part of an elite organization of militant under-thirteens called the Kids Next Door. We were trained in weapons and close combat to fight adult tyranny. When we were kids, you were in my sector, and so was Wally, Nigel Uno, and Hoagie Gilligan. Five years ago you were decommissioned when you turned thirteen, and all your memories of KND were erased to make sure no adults ever have knowledge of our existence. That's why that photo was there. That's why you feel like you know me and Wally, that's why you're getting headaches all the time and that's what's up with that treehouse. We used to live there."

Silence.

Rushing fluids.

_Pain._

This time, the first thing that ends up coming out of Kuki's mouth is her dinner.

* * *

"Sorry," Kuki says again. Her head still feels like it's being split open, but the pain echoes into an empty belly now. The vomit on the floor is covered shrewdly with a dirty towel.

"Girl, it's your floor. I ain't cleanin' that up," Abby responds, hovering in a comfortable balance between concerned and amused.

Kuki sips from a glass of water Abby filled in the bathroom. The acrid taste in her mouth is just background to the turmoil going on in her head.

"So-"

"Yeah. It's all true."

Kuki falls silent. She takes sips of water and stares at the weird things laid out on the floor between them.

_S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R.: Solid Pine Loaded Artillery Nicely Kicks Enemy Rear._

It's funny. Clearly someone in this Kids Next Door thing has a sense of humor.

Kuki only hopes it doesn't extend to pranking her. It doesn't feel like a prank. It feels like she was waiting for it. Has maybe been waiting for it forever.

"Numbuh Three."

Kuki jerks. "What?"

Abby's expression is tentative, hopeful, her fingers laced in her lap. "Numbuh Three. That was your codename."

"Number Three, huh?"

"Numbuh."

"What?"

"Don't ask me." Abby smiles a bit, shrugging as her fingers trace over the ragtag communicator on the floor. Its numbers are drawn in faded marker. The buttons are a mixture of bottle caps and pencil erasers. It's strangely endearing.

"I was Numbuh Five. Wally was Numbuh Four, Nigel was our leader, Numbuh One, and Hoagie was Numbuh Two."

"See, I know Nigel, but I've never met Hoagie. Does he go to our school?"

"Yeah, you know that ridiculously tall guy in the pilot cap?"

Kuki blinks. She has. In fact, she's seen him everywhere. He's in her French class. "Yeah… Do…do any of them know? All of this? Are they like you?"

Abby shakes her head. "So far it's just you. I don't know if the others… Henrietta has this theory that since we were all decommissioned once before-"

"We were?"

"You don't remember?"

"I don't think so…"

Abby smiles. "Okay, so we were all just hangin' around in the treehouse while Numbuh One was out fishing with his dad-"

"Which one's he again?"

They talk well into the night. Well, further into the morning. Abby spins story after story, most of which are completely preposterous, but Kuki finds that she's willing to suspend her disbelief if only for a moment, just to get that warm glowing feeling when the pseudo-memories slide gently into place.

She doesn't _remember, _exactly. She doesn't remember the episodes that Abby wasn't there for, or how it felt when one of her hamsters died, or what her room looked like. But it feels right. It feels true. At least she _wants _it to be.

And by the time Kuki's alarm goes off and Abby has to leave, it's almost like it _is_, like she's eleven and she never forgot anything and they're going on an exciting mission.

_Battle stations!_

"Are you gonna talk to the others, too?" Kuki asks as Abby gently lifts up the window, cautious now that daylight is beginning to shine in.

"I guess so," Abby replies with a funny little smile. "If Henrietta's right, then…"

Kuki nods. "But we can't talk at school, huh?"

Abby sighs. "No. But I'll be in touch." She waves the old-fashioned communicator that matches the one in Kuki's hand.

Kuki finds herself smiling, just a little. "I'm still not sure I believe you."

Abby smiles back, one leg out the window. The sun bathes her face in a bright golden light, highlighting every feature in sharp, clear contrast.

"You will."

* * *

_"I have grown sick of shadows." _– Oscar Wilde, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_

* * *

**AN: **Plot, hurrah! More 3x4 coming soon, I promise. The next chapter? No idea. The only reason this is finished is because the due date for one of my papers was pushed back. :) P.S. You guys should totally read _The Picture of Dorian Gray_, it's awesome. Kuki is very Sibyl Vane as far as values go, minus the Victorian overacting.

Leave me a mouth-watering review!

Tickle That Toast


	10. I Will Go Down With This Ship

**AN: **Oh my gosh there's actually 3x4 in this chapter! The plot was trying to keep my ship away, but I stood up and said NO. WE CAN HAVE BOTH. Sorry in advance for the chapter title.

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 10: I Will Go Down With This Ship**

* * *

Wally isn't in school the next day.

Neither is Abby, but Kuki isn't surprised.

It occurs to Kuki, as she sits in Pre-Cal trying to pay attention instead of letting her tired eyes shift into a thousand-yard stare, that his empty desk is not an unfamiliar sight. Wally never used to come to school every day until recently.

She should probably be wondering what changed, but it would be naïve to say she doesn't know. No matter how conceited it sounds.

But today…it had to have something to do with what Abby had told her last night. What she may have told Wally this morning.

As the sun had risen that morning, Abby long gone out the second-story window, the conversation seemed even more incredible.

It can't possibly be true, but Abby can't possibly have made it up, either.

Kuki saw Hoagie Gilligan at lunch. He was wearing an aviator cap just like Abby said. Kuki tried to catch his eye to no avail. Both Nigel and Lizzie were missing from the lunch table.

At first it helps; she takes this as proof that Abby is making her rounds, telling what Kuki has so readily taken as _truth_.

Then she wonders if they were all just imaginary; the kind of twist you would at the end of one of those psychological thrillers Mushi loves.

Maybe she just needs some sleep.

As Kuki collects her things from her locker after school, she retrieves her phone and turns it back on. Surprisingly, she has two messages waiting for her.

Unknown: hey its wally

Unknown: abby linkin gave me ur numbr hope thats ok

Kuki cradles her phone between her palms, staring at the little words on the screen. It seems…big, somehow, exchanging phone numbers. It feels like a step toward something Kuki isn't sure she's ready for. Maybe she should just ignore the messages and pretend that Abby had given him the wrong number. He probably wouldn't ask her about it. He'd probably let it go and never mention it again.

Kuki hesitates, her thumb gently swiping over the keypad.

_You: Yeah its fine _

_You: Hi_

_Unknown: hi_

Kuki saves his number.

_You: So i guess she talked to you today?_

_Wally: yea_

_Wally: is she serius i mean dam_

Kuki smiles to herself. Closing her locker, she carefully makes her way down the hall and out the front doors while texting slowly, conscious that the last thing she wants to do is trip and fall on her face.

_You: I guess so. It's kind of unbelievable but it also kind of makes sense? Idk _

_Wally: no i get wat u mean its like my brain just went boop! ok! file saved!_

Kuki laughs aloud, pressing her face against her hand to stifle the noise into soft snickers.

_You: Thats one way to put it lol_

There is a small pause in the texts, but Kuki keeps her phone in her hand as she treks home, taking the shortcut across the train tracks. At the intersection, she pauses.

_You: Hey can i come over _

_You: Just i think we should talk about this in trombone_

_You: *person_

The answer is immediate.

_Wally: y_

_Wally: yea sure_

_Wally: rite now?_

_You: I'm like right next to ur street so yeah if that's ok_

_Wally: yea sure come on over my moms out picking up joey from skool_

Kuki's chest convulses briefly at the implication of Wally mentioning he is alone in the house.

No. Down girl. Talking. That's it.

It's easy to spot the square little house squatting beneath the water tower. True to Wally's word, there aren't any cars in the drive, and it's Wally who comes to the door when Kuki knocks.

He looks like he hasn't slept much, either. His blond hair is all tangled and matted on one side, there are purple bags beneath his eyes, and he is definitely wearing something that functions as pajamas. His tee shirt has some obscure Star Trek character on it, the screenprint cracked with age.

Kuki offers him a soft smile. "Long night?" she asks, empathizing.

Wally stands back to let her in. "You got no idea." He yawns big enough to crack his jaw, and Kuki follows suit in a yawn of her own.

"Or maybe you do," he follows up with, closing the door and leading the way up the stairs.

To his _bedroom._

Weird. Totally weird.

His room is kind of a mess, but there is a path cleared in the center by clothes and notebooks being shoved in every available space near the walls. Wally hastily kicks more things – Kuki thinks she saw underwear – under the bed and shifts uncomfortably for a few seconds before perching awkwardly on the mattress.

Kuki clears her throat and sits gingerly next to him, slinging her backpack onto a section of "floor." The only uncluttered surface in the room is a small wooden desk, which is covered in paper. If Kuki didn't know any better, she'd think Wally was doing homework. After all, the desk chair is swamped under a pile of clothes. The room is small, with one window and a bifold closet, so the bed is twin-sized, which doesn't leave a lot of room for fidgeting without brushing elbows.

For all their texting, neither of them seem eager to start actually _talking_.

But of course it ends up being Kuki.

"Sorry I've kind been ignoring you. It's just…all this stuff…" She angles herself toward Wally, waving her hands ambiguously.

Wally just nods, a few more times than is probably normal. "Yeah it's…"

"Weird."

"Yeah, weird."

"Yeah. I mean…we used to be…"

"Friends. Or, like, teammates?"

"Yeah."

"Weird."

"Yeah. So it was…weird. Being around you. And knowing. Well, sort of knowing."

Wally rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, no, I get it. I mean, after you took off that day I saw the picture and…I mean my head hurt so bad I thought I was gonna pass out!" He chuckles awkwardly. "But, I mean…" He meets her eyes with a bit of trepidation, but more of something happy and warm. "I _knew _I knew you. I mean I knew you, but…"

Kuki purses her mouth to avoid a smile. "Yeah. Me too."

They talk for a little while, about Abby's claims and their personal experiences with it, about their chance meeting, and somehow ending up on American Horror Story, which, Wally accidently lets slip, gives him nightmares.

Kuki really makes an effort not to laugh at him, but it proves too arduous a task. She thinks Wally looks strangely relieved even as he goes red and pushes her over.

Eventually it's an hour until Kuki's mom gets home and Kuki, regrettably, has to go.

"I really need a nap, anyway," Kuki admits, pulling her backpack to her feet.

Wally shrugs empathetically. "Same here. Was up all night thinking about my place in the universe, you know."

He stands, and Kuki's heart palpitates suddenly at the thought that he's going to walk her to the door, before he starts suddenly as if a thought hit him.

"Oh! Hang on, you left some of your notebooks here when you took off last week. I put 'em in the hall closet. Be right back." He trots off down the hall, leaving Kuki vaguely flustered and wondering how out of it she'd been during class lately to not notice she was missing half her stuff.

Speaking of.

Keeping one ear out for Wally's return, Kuki slinks over to Wally's desk to take a peek at his work.

His…oh.

Kuki's not sure why she expected calculus, considering this is _Wally_, but on plain computer paper she recognizes the faint lines of brickwork that line the outer walls of Hall C classrooms at school. The lines are clumsy but loaded with detail, every pebbled bump of brick meticulously shaded. Slowly, Kuki pushes it aside and finds another page with a pair of sneakers crossed at the ankle. The third page is the back of someone's head leaning on a palm, long hair draped over skinny shoulders—

Oh.

"Oi!"

Kuki starts violently, shoving the drawings over each other and turning around, guilt paralyzing her face into an ugly frown.

Wally, notebooks in hand, glances between Kuki and his desk frantically. Kuki watches as his face slowly turns red.

"They're, um, they're really good," Kuki admits, not bothering to deny that she had snooped.

Wally just stands there, staring at the small stack of papers now, fire-engine red down to his collarbone.

"I didn't know you liked to draw," Kuki tries again.

Wally moved nothing save his throat, which bobs with a hard swallow.

Their relationship doesn't stand up to genuine compliments, Kuki realizes. They just don't do that. Maybe she broke him. Fine, back to familiar ground.

"No wonder you do so bad in Pre-Cal since you're spending all your time doodling instead of taking notes."

That snaps Wally out of it. "Hey!" he snaps, shoving Kuki's books at her chest. He's smirking, though, and his shoulders no longer hold enough tension to snap the Golden Gate Bridge. "That's what I have nerds like you for."

Kuki scoffs. "Well, nerds like me have to get home before our moms do, so." She walks around Wally, purposefully bumping his shoulder with hers.

She smiles as she walks down the stairs, hearing the solid thump of Wally following her. Or walking her out. The latter feels nice, but the former less terrifying.

They reach the door, and Kuki turns expectantly.

Wally is still a little pink, but he looks her in the eyes now, clearly ready to have the incident forgotten.

Kuki wishes she could tell him that she likes that he draws. Tough, sporty, ragamuffin Wally sits in class and sketches his own shoes. It's probably the cutest thing Kuki has ever heard of, but if she told him that he would probably run away or spontaneously combust. After Kuki dies of embarrassment, of course.

"So…" Wally pipes up suddenly. Kuki wonders how long they had stood there staring at each other. "Nerds like you would help me study for Monday's test, right?"

Kuki smiles. "We might. If jerks like you would open the door for me."

Rolling his eyes, Wally complies, theatrically bowing at the waist as he swings it open.

"And makes me popcorn," Kuki adds, helpless against the urge to tease him further. She needs to go home, she really does, but she doesn't exactly _want _to.

Wally breaks out in a huge grin that makes Kuki's face feel hot all over again. Damn his dimples.

"There could be popcorn," Wally replies, and even the chip in his front tooth seems somehow attractive. Kuki wants to know what it feels like against her mouth.

Woah.

Stop right there. Do not pass go, do not collect $100, just stop.

Wally's staring at her. Did she say that out loud? No. Crap. Maybe he can read minds. With all the other weird stuff she's finding out it wouldn't be too much of a stretch.

"So Friday?" Kuki squeaks.

"Sure," Wally yips back. His cheeks are back to fire-engine.

Kuki ducks out the front door without another word and trots down the sidewalk, bookbag bouncing on her back and notebooks clutched against her chest. Her heart hammers in her chest hard enough to hurt, but it also feels kind of good.

Just before she turns the corner and puts the tiny square house out of sight, Kuki glances back. Wally is still in the doorway, barefoot and rumpled, staring after her with an expression too far away to see.

Kuki peels a hand off her books to wave back, heart in her throat like it grew wings and is trying to make a daring escape.

Wally waves back quickly and shuts the door, visibly flustered from fifty feet away.

Kuki smiles. She turns the corner and walks down the sidewalk, back to her home that is turns too quiet and too loud and smiles. She can't seem to stop.

She likes Wally Beatles.

And she may have just made a date with him.

* * *

**AN: **In my mind, Kuki has a smartphone and Wally has a flip phone. So Kuki's phone autocorrects for spelling and capitalizes the beginning of sentences and Wally's texts appear exactly as he types them. Did I overthink this?

This one took a long time to get out, but I'm fairly happy with it. Next time we get the rest of Sector V!

Leave me a review!

Tickle that Toast.


	11. So Much Younger Than Today

**AN: **Happy New Year! Sorry for such a long wait, there intervened four term papers, then exams, then holidays and work work work ugh. But here it is, finally! Hope you enjoy. Don't be afraid to send me suggestions/encouragement/complaints here or on my tumblr! (askthetoast)

* * *

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 11: So Much Younger Than Today**

* * *

The urge to speak to them, to reach out as they pass in the hall, is an ever-present temptation. Eyes, just shy of recognizable, sweep over hers and pass away like leaves falling diagonally across her path.

Nigel has stopped sitting with them at lunch, something that Lizzie complains endlessly about.

The rest of the week passes, as everything does, but slowly and with great deliberation.

Saturday morning, the strange walkie-talkie device Abby had given her suddenly lights up.

Kuki reaches an arm out of the warmth of her blankets to bring the device on her nightstand closer. On the dim screen, block letters spell out a simple message: 0.

The thing is, while Kuki is proud to be able to decipher that Abby wants to meet at the treehouse at ten, she isn't exactly sure if she meant ten in the morning or at night. Surely night is more secretive? But it's nine now…

Kuki's cell phone vibrates on the nightstand.

_Wally: uh did u just get a mesage from abby?_

Kuki types back quickly.

_You: Yeah but AM or PM?_

_Wally: what_

_Wally: o wait I get it nvm_

_Wally: idk ask her_

_You: That's awkward_

_Wally: hey she shouda been clerer_

_You: Your spelling is awful_

Kuki switches contacts and shoots a carefully obscure text while her phone buzzes with Wally's quick response.

_You: AM?_

Kuki waits only a moment before Abby replies.

_AL: Yes, it's safe._

Kuki switches back to the conversation with Wally, seeing a blue bubble with "_yur face is awful"_ popping up on the screen. She stifles a smile and types out a response.

_You: Sure didn't seem that awful in your sketchbook._

Kuki stares at the message for a moment, then shakes her head and deletes it.

_You: Great comeback. Abby says AM is safe_

_Wally: k see u ther_

Kuki shuts down her phone's screen after checking the time. Forty-three minutes to go.

* * *

After obsessively pacing and brushing and re-brushing her hair until she can conceivably start the three-minute walk to the treehouse, Kuki finally slips quietly out the door while her dad attempts to yell over Mushi's music about how loud Mushi's music is.

The sky is clear and blue outside, prompting Kuki to ditch the umbrella she had automatically brought. It's the same one Rachel gave her, and she's not sure exactly how to return it after so long.

The topmost branches arc against the sky, growing larger and longer as Kuki draws nearer to the treehouse that is, somehow, important. Nerves slow her steps bit by bit. This is it; forward or back, red pill or blue pill, Hobbiton or Mordor.

Okay, hopefully the metaphor doesn't extend to Mordor.

Kuki turns the corner, the treehouse popping into view with three figures on the grass below. Her gut sinks when the treehouse looks as old and rotted as ever, high up in a tree behind a red roof. She's not sure what she expected.

"Hi Abby! Hi Nigel!"

Abby greets Kuki warmly as she steps into the yard, Nigel waving awkwardly from where he stands. Kuki supposes it is a bit weird; it's not like they've been out of contact for the past five years, but they don't really know each other. Except now they sort of do? Or did? Or used to know, but forgot?

Kuki blinks to clear her head and focuses on the third person in the party. He's gangly and grinning, looking like an unintentional hipster with the old-fashioned aviator cap on his head and open button-up. He's completely unfamiliar but for a vague recognizability that comes from going to the same school. Still, there's only one person he can be.

"And you're Hoagie, right?"

The boy grins, cockily planting his hands on his hips. "Oh, you've heard of me."

Abby smacks him in the back of his head with her hat. "Shut up, fool, we're on a schedule. Where's Nu- Wally?"

Wally jogs up just then, having traveled all the way from downtown, irritable from the run and slightly sweaty even in the cool fall air. His eyes dart to Kuki and away again, then back, and away.

"Hey," he says simply, addressing everyone. They raise a hand or murmur a greeting. Kuki smiles at him and watches his eyes do another dance before his lips twitch lightly in return.

"Come on, ya'll, quit making googly eyes and follow me," Abby remarks, walking toward the back of the house.

Wally's face flames up, bright red, and he grumbles as he falls into step behind Hoagie.

Kuki bites her lips around a smile and refrains from skipping as she follows her new – or old – friends into the backyard.

Abby stops just behind the house, the tree several yards behind her, and claps her hands. "Okay, so! The treehouse. This is was our headquarters way back when. We stayed here pretty much every weekend." Her gaze is fond as she looks up at it.

"_That_ thing? It's just a dinky old treehouse!" Nigel exclaims.

Kuki silently agrees. The dilapidated house is barely six feet square; she can't see how it could have ever comfortably housed five children for extended periods. Or so Abby claims.

"Are you kidding?!" Hoagie shouts, grinning. "This thing is amazing, look at it!"

Nigel gives him the most incredulous, condescending look Kuki has ever seen on a person. And she lives with Mushi.

"You're just not lookin' hard enough," Abby insists, moving Nigel so he can see the treehouse head-on. "You gotta _remember_, you gotta look past what your brain is trying to trick you into seein'."

"Woah," Wally breathes out beside her. He's staring up at the ramshackle building like it's begun to slow dance to Edwin McCain. "That _is_ awesome."

After a moment, removing his sunglasses as if to see more clearly, Nigel's jaw slowly drops. "Holy…"

Kuki squints up at it, too, and it blurs but doesn't change shape. She blinks, takes a breath, and holds it. Nothing. She pinches herself gently just to feel the sting, to know she's real.

Whatever it is the others are seeing, she just isn't.

"I can't see it," Kuki whines.

"You gotta try _harder_," Abby insists. Kuki can hear her sneakers scuff closer, a hand on her shoulder gently nudging her forward.

"I _am!_" Kuki's eyes begin to well up with frustrated tears. The treehouse has a curtain in the tiny window, moth-eaten and paled by the sun. "It's not working! If you guys are playing a joke on me, it's not funny!"

Abby approaches her, hands held out hesitantly. "Calm down, girl, no one's tricking you. Just take a deep breath and really _look_."

Kuki tries to take a breath but it stutters in her throat. The treehouse has rotting floorboards.

Is there something wrong with her? Maybe they have the wrong girl; she should have known she was never part of something like this. Something _meaningful_. She was stupid to think these were her friends, to think—

Warm, rough-skinned hands cover her eyes. "C'mon, Kuki," Wally's voice is close to her ear, familiar and calming. "You got this. No cruddy treehouse can get the better of you. It's so cool, Kooks, you've gotta see it. You can do this."

The hands slip from her face but Kuki's eyes remain closed. The others' voices chime in.

"Open your eyes, girl, its right in front of you!"

"You're one of us, Kuki, you've got this!"

"It's got a friggin' _boat _sticking out of it!"

"C'mon Kuki, just think like a kid!"

_Think like a kid._

Kuki opens her eyes.

The first thing she sees is Wally, grinning from ear to ear, all dimples and blond hair. Then Abby, with her red hat and encouraging expression, and Nigel, exuding confidence beside her. With a smile, Hoagie is turning from the group and racing up the hill with his arms spread like an airplane.

Kuki's eyes follow him to the base of the tree, then up, and up, and up, and _up_…

She lets out a startled breath, a tear escaping down one cheek. "I see it."

* * *

**AN: **Next chapter may be a bit of a wait but my goal is to get it out before the new semester starts, so…ten days? I hope? Please review!


	12. I'll Never Smile Again

**AN: **Wow, those ten days just flew by, right? Haha…ha… Seriously, though, it's been a long enough wait. This fic is still sort of on hold, but thanks to Mr. Warburton KND hype has been reignited and I was inspired to make time for at least one chapter! It may still be a long wait until the next one (probably not until summer break, ahh!) but I hope this one suffices for now! (I'm planning for it to go out on April 1st, just in case the G:KND turns out to be a hoax!)

* * *

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 12: I'll Never Smile Again**

* * *

"Kuki, you with us?"

Kuki gasps and blinks dry eyes. She's standing on the hill with the treehouse – a literal _tree growing out of a house_ – with Wally's hands on her shoulders. When he sees her looking, he quickly snatches them away. Kuki wobbles, but thanks her lucky stars that she didn't pass out or anything. That would be embarrassing.

"I remembered…um…something," she murmurs, rubbing her pounding head.

Abby looks delighted. "What? What'd you remember?"

Kuki blinks hard, then furiously, trying to focus. "I don't…just shapes. Vague kind of…feelings? I don't know." She looks up at the treehouse again, eyes catching on a faded '3' painted on the side. "But I definitely believe you now."

Abby's shoulders relax, a wide smile brightening her face. She looks more content than Kuki thinks she's ever seen her—_not since in the plane above the sea with an exploded factory below and chicken pox on her face_—and Kuki thinks for a moment Abby may hug her. Instead, she claps Kuki gently on the shoulder and leads the way up the hill.

At first, Kuki trails slowly behind, taking it all in. There is actually a boat stuck in the middle of the treehouse, along with a giant periscope and what looks suspiciously like a 747. It _dwarfs _all the houses around it and casts a shadow so massive that Kuki thinks it would be impossible to ignore, never mind that she has been for years.

The longer she looks at it, the more familiar it feels. Not just the treehouse, but all of it. The hill, the splintered red roof, and the four people in front of her—it feels like the best kind of _déjà vu_, where every step she takes feels more like home.

She feels _young_.

Suddenly Kuki is giggling, little bubbles of joyous laughter that she can't seem to contain. He legs begin to pump faster, enough to come even with Nigel, then Wally, then Abby, the grass solid under her feet. Laughter barks out behind her, pairs of feet picking up the pace. They run and race and laugh, up towards the tree, which stretches out its branches as if welcoming them home.

They burst into the elevator—_grim-faced, hands gripped around weapons_—laughing, shoving each other around, and squealing when the floor beneath them jerks to life.

Kuki laughs, laughs more freely than she has in years, since before the word "college applications" was a part of her vocabulary. It's pure joy, absolute childlike glee, that has her clutching one hand in Hoagie's shirt and the other palming Wally's head as she bounces around on her heels. They all laugh, jostling each other and making a nuisance, ridiculous in their elation.

The elevator dings.

The five of them, pink-cheeked, arms around any shoulder they can find, tumble out the doors in an undignified heap of overgrown children.

Dust explodes beneath them, where it had been mistaken for floor. Their laughter dies down slowly in ragged coughs, all joy paused as the sight before them clears.

The dry gray air , swirling gently with disturbed flakes of years-old dust, is struck through with a feeble ray of sun. A swollen board of wood, bent away by time, lets it through, illuminates what there is to see. _All of us wrinkled and rotting, with glowing yellow _eyes—a room long abandoned, where no change can touch it but what damage years alone can wrought. Bleak and morose, the corners of the room dissolve into shadows, closing in as a cloud passes over the sun outside, so far away. Dust coats the walls, the circular couch with splitting vinyl and loose springs, and the tree itself, rising helplessly in the center, the last living relic of this dead place.

The dust coats them now, as if relics themselves.

Dread pools in Kuki's stomach, spreading to her limbs in a cold chill. A hysterical thought enters her head: _This is totally Mordor._

* * *

They branch off, the state of their former home having a sobering effect on them all. Kuki watches as Wally, having previously kept to her side as they glanced nervously around, stares down a corridor on the left.

She rests two fingers on his sleeve. Words echo strangely here.

Wally looks at her, a strange light in his eyes, and shrugs, pointing his thumb down the hallway that drew his attention.

Kuki nods once, quick, and retrieves her arm to wrap around herself. Wally disappears down the corridor—_no bed, just a wrestling ring and a pillow_—and Kuki turns to find herself alone.

_They were supposed to be a team._

She takes the first doorway she sees and wanders down it, gripping her sleeves tightly until they slide over her hands.

* * *

It's when Kuki trips over a loose pile of cloth that she finds it.

The cloth, once Kuki is compelled to investigate it, is purple beneath the layers of thick gray dust. There are traces of yellow paint.

_—shoves past, soft on her hands, hers, she's the third, the stable wheel, the maker of a crowd—_

It's there, the doorway to her left. She lived here.

Kuki walks in slowly, prepared for the abandoned, unwashed sight before her. There is a bed, large and round, but stripped of sheets and moth-eaten. Scraps of the past here and there: ticket stubs, some discolored spots in the wood, illegible notes balled up in the corner, cookie crumbs, and a doll.

It's a small lump at the far side of the bed, facedown on the floor with its tail half gone. It's gray with dust and its fur falls off in patches when Kuki tentatively picks it up. She turns it over. On the other side is a smiling orange face and a rainbow antennae, almost like new, protected from age by the press of the floor. Kuki smiles and buries her face in its musty stomach, eyes stinging from what surely must be the dust.

It was as if carved into the walls: _Kuki was here_.

* * *

When Kuki finds her way back to the main room, Nigel has found a broom somewhere and is already assigning tasks to the rest of them and making plans to clean the place up when Abby intervenes.

"We can't stay here," she tells them sadly. "I wanted you guys to see it, but…it's only safe now because I've got a friend in the surveillance department on duty. He'll keep quiet, but if Infinity or any other KND find you here it'll be bad news."

Nigel huffs and taps the broom handle twice on the grounf. "So why did you bring us here, then?"

Wally and Hoagie—_strangely inseparable, boundless—_turn to their host with identical looks of expectation, and Kuki finds herself doing the same.

Abby looks lost for a moment, and small, her shoulders hunched in and her face uncharacteristically pinched. "I just…wanted y'all to know who we used to be."

The look on her face pulls Kuki to her side, where she slides an arm around Abby's shoulders. "I'm glad I know," she says unexpectedly. The inquisitive gazes are now on her, and Kuki fights not to shrink away.

The beam of sun from the broken siding is glowing brighter and sliding across the floor.

"I am, I—" Kuki falters and looks down at her free hand, balled up inside her sleeve. "I felt like something was missing before. I didn't realize it, but I did. And now…well, it's not fixed, but… What's missing was this place. You guys." She squeezes Abby's shoulder and looks up shyly. Wally's arms are crossed but he's almost smiling, the softness to his eyes akin to sunlight on wood. Nigel's expression is hard to make out, but he's nodding slowly, and the hard line has gone away from his mouth. Hoagie is grinning outright and stepping towards Abby and Kuki.

"Right? I feel like I've known you guys for forever! And this place is amazing! Have you seen the flight deck? Half of this stuff is my own design! Best secret club ever!"

Abby is smiling. "I agree."

Hoagie, in an obvious attempt to ramp up excitement, wraps the other boys in each arm and manhandles them over, smooshing them all into a giggling group hug.

Kuki finds herself pressed against Wally, who reddens. "You're crushing me, mate! Gimme some warning, next time!" he shouts at Hoagie.

Kuki dislodges her free arm and puts it around Wally's waist, bringing him in. He quiets, but leaves his arms trapped awkwardly in front of him.

Nigel is grinning, standing tall and straight even when being squished between Hoagie and Abby. "Best secret club ever."

Hoagie hugs them all tighter. "That's us! Sector W!"

"V," Abby corrects him. Her eye-roll is fond.

"Sector V!"

* * *

**AN: **Kuki's memories keep interrupting the flow of the story! Let me know if that works for you guys. I may include a full flashback at some points, but for now the canon references are doing the job, I think. Her personality is starting to come back as well! She's speaking up and taking care!  
I was planning on having Wally and Kuki's study date in this chapter, but I kept adding things to it and it wasn't done in time. Next chapter!  
BTW, if you guys want to see the other characters' explorations of the treehouse, let me know!  
P.S. the title is from my favorite Sinatra song. :)  
P.S.S. shouldn't these kids be worrying about college or something?

Reviews are delicious!


	13. Popcorn Doesn't Grow on Trees

**AN: **Third year is finished! The summer stretches before me, filled with opportunities to write…and still I don't. What am I. Anyway, work still takes up a good chunk of my time, but this fic is officially off hold I guess? Thanks for your patience! The long-awaited date chapter has arrived.

**Warnings:** slight mention of drug use, not by any present character

* * *

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 13: Popcorn Doesn't Grow on Trees**

* * *

The treehouse is a dream that, like all dreams, eventually has to be woken up from. But this time it's not on the floor next to her bed that Kuki blinks back to the daily tedium that she has been considering reality, but the moment she peels herself away from her new-old friends and loses them from her sight.

How can it be real?

Things don't happen to Kuki. They just don't. Good or bad. She's never dealt with mental illness or a death in her close family; she's never failed a class or smoked pot with the sophomores behind the gym. She's never won a sweepstakes off the cap of a soda bottle or been given a surprise birthday party; she's never discovered a long-lost twin sister or even gotten first place in the science fair.

How is it believable, then, that the comfortable monotony she has known—thought she knew—her entire life is nothing but a trick of her mind?

How is it believable that her life had been, at some point, remarkable?

Kuki's steps falter at the top of the hill, knuckles white over the edge of her sweater. _It isn't._

Her breaths come, deep and slow, and she exhales the dust of the treehouse.

As she sun rises in the sky, neither just beginning its peak or ready to end it, Kuki turns.

Behind her, beyond the cookie-cutter, subdivided houses painted in subtle whites and blues, the treehouse still stands, far taller and grander than anything Kuki could have dreamed.

Except, she has.

A pressure, not unlike the warmth of the morning sun on her back, rises in Kuki's chest. She smiles.

* * *

_You: See you soon?_

_Wally: yeah _

_Wally: ive got popcorn_

_You: :)_

It's the only contact she makes with Wally—just a little clarification, just in case— before she leaves her house on Friday evening with her Pre-Cal textbooks in hand.

If she also put on a little more eyeliner than usual, well, that's her business.

She arrives at Wally's house much too soon. He heart hammers out "not-a-date, not-a-date, not-a-date" in Morse code as she knocks twice beside the broken doorbell. Through the door she hears the trampling of boyish feet down the stairs, double-stepping in their haste.

Wally pulls open the door, and somehow Kuki expected him to be different. Or, she expected to see him differently. But he's still two inches shorter than her and covered in pale freckles, the chip in his tooth showing as he motions for her to come in.

Both Wally's parents are home, watching television on the tiny set in the den while Joey does his homework at the kitchen table.

"Uh, guess we'll go upstairs," Wally says. Kuki's mind quickly thumbs through every possible scenario that "going upstairs" involves. She's not exactly adverse to any of them.

"Okay."

"Wallabee! Come here and let me talk with you for a moment!" Mrs. Beatles calls. Wally and Kuki glance over and shrug at each other, both pretending not to know what kind of talk it's going to be. As surely as Kuki knows this isn't a date, parents are never as easily duped. Kuki gives him a small smile, points up, and waits for a nod before starting on the stairs. Wally crosses into the den, ruffling his little brother's hair as he goes.

That, for some reason, is enough to bring a larger smile to Kuki's face, a look that Joey reserves for himself as he waves from the kitchen.

Kuki waves back and continues her incline, stepping immediately into Wally's room to wait. This time the scattered sketches on the desk are neatly stacked and covered with a notebook, and the clutter has been cleared from the floor. Kuki knows, somehow, that she'd find it all thrown haphazardly in a pile if she opened his closet.

Wally comes up a few minutes later to find Kuki perched innocently on the edge of his bed. Kuki notices how he carefully leaves the door halfway open. Ah. It _was _one of those talks.

With a little grin, Wally shakes the paper bag in his hand. "Promised you popcorn."

"Yeah, you did," Kuki agrees, reaching out for the warm bag and ripping it open. Hot steam rushes up at her face and she inhales deeply. "Thanks!"

They both grab handfuls to munch on as Kuki opens up the textbooks to the bookmarked pages. She always pours popcorn into a bowl at home so she doesn't get her hands messy, but Kuki stops minding as she watches Wally suck the butter off his knuckles.

Kuki forcibly shifts gears—without a clutch—back to the practice graphs.

By the time the popcorn bag is empty, they've made it through most of the study guide with Wally ripping up his work only once, which is an improvement. If he's also been shuffling incrementally closer to Kuki at the same time, well, she isn't going to say anything.

"Break time?" Wally asks with a bit of whine in his voice.

Kuki sighs and dog-ears the page they're on. "Break time."

Wally outright grins. "Awesome. There's, uh, something I wanted to show you." He crosses to his uncharacteristically neat desk and slides a single page from the top of the stack. A little sheepishly, he hands it back to her.

"Wow," Kuki breathes, holding the page delicately in her fingers. It's a rough sketch, smudged on the right side by the back of a hand, but quite clearly the inner room of the treehouse. The knots in the wood are lightly lined and crossed with shadows as pale as clouds and as deep as night. Light comes to the drawing from a square window and stretches across the center of the page like a drowsy cat. "Did you draw this from memory? It's amazing!"

Scrubbing at the back of his ducked head, Wally smiles. "I drew it from _something._ Last week."

Kuki pauses and looks up at him. "Last week? But-"

Wally just nods. "After you left in a hurry? I, uh…just started drawing and…this is what came out."

All Kuki can think to do is repeat "wow" on another breath, eyes scanning the rough but intricate details of the drawing. She notices now that the floorboards are whole and clean, the leaves are full on the branches outside the window, and the circular couch looks new and unspoiled by time.

Here, on the page, it's almost definitely real. Maybe Wally thinks so too, and he doesn't know how else to talk about it. Kuki meets his eyes, which have been traveling steadily from his shoes to her face, and offers a smile and a slight change of subject.

"Are you gonna go to art school?"

Wally's eyes widen comically and he lets out a choked little laugh, waving his hands. "Me? No! No, no, no, no, no. This is just, like, a hobby or whatever."

"But you're _really _good."

Even if it wasn't true, Kuki would have said that just for the flustered look on Wally's face.

"Look I'm not," he clears his throat. "I'm not, like, 'college material,' y'know? These are just doodles. I'm got gonna make a career out of doodles."

Kuki bites the inside of her lip, still studying the drawing that must have taken _hours_; the shadows must have been done with the side of a sharp pencil, the streaks of sunlight with the crisp edge of an eraser. "Well, I think you could," she counters quietly.

Wally lets out a strange-sounding breath beside her, the force of the exhale pressing his shoulder into hers. "College isn't for me, Kooks, it's just not."

Kuki shuts her mouth. Wally's family is poor. She knows this. She also knows that her family is not. So she shuts her mouth. His shoulder is solid against hers, flesh and bone beneath warm skin and cool cotton. It's grounding, and she presses harder until the bunched-up muscles soften, Wally letting out a soft, steady breath.

"Calculus time?" he asks with deeply sarcastic enthusiasm.

Kuki is too close to turn her head to look at him without doing something she's not sure she'd regret, so she just studies him for a moment out of the corner of her eye. She stands. "I've got a better idea."

Wally looks at her, then at the hand she's holding out. He takes it hesitantly but doesn't yet stand, allowing Kuki to feel the rough skin of his palm. "Is this a fun idea or a nerd idea?"

Kuki smiles and pulls him up, getting no resistance from the shorter boy. "A little of both."

* * *

_"Mum! I'm walkin' Kuki home!"_

_"Are her parents there?"_

_"Oh, for… yeah, Mum, it's fine!"_

Wally doesn't ask questions as they walk through the sleepy Cleveland streets, sun setting against their backs. He doesn't need to—they can both see the broad, leafy branches soaring in the distance straight ahead.

Kuki hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since they left, and she can only guess Wally feels the same with the way his pace quickens as they cross into the right street.

The treehouse is dark when they enter, and silent, but not for long.

It's a flurry of movement and laughter that Kuki will not be able to recall in any clarity later on, only the feeling of an innocent kind of joy that she always associates with this place.

She remembers radishes, a fly, and a giant mechanical rabbit. When she tells Wally, he believes her.

They find a wall full of rodent cages that Wally can't wait to leave and Kuki absolutely adores.

They find a room with a giant pool of rancid cheese that sends them both out of the room immediately, gagging.

They find an airplane hangar that Kuki threatens to push Wally off of if he doesn't stop singing "Danger Zone."

They find a big red button on the wall that Kuki dares him to press, and he does. Nothing happens, but the thrill sends them chasing each other around the base of the tree until their legs give out.

They've cleared a circle of dust around the main room with their tromping feet, and sit together now, bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, winning grins painted wide over their cheeks.

Wally has a strand of her hair and is trying to braid it, only succeeding in creating an impressively complicated knot.

Unbothered, Kuki laughs. "Quit it! You're gonna ruin my hair and I'll have to cut it all off!"

Wally scoffs, tugging his fingers out of the knot with care not to pull. "I can't even imagine you with short hair. It's been like, exactly the same for forever."

"You're one to talk, _Beatles_," Kuki counters, shuffling over to mess up his hair.

"Hey!" Wally laughs, ducking to avoid her. "I've had different hairstyles!"

Something pings in Kuki's memory and she snatches her hands away quickly to cover the awful snort that tries to escape her lips. "Oh my _god_, you had a _Mohawk_ in the eighth grade, I forgot!" She bursts into laughter, recalling with clarity now when the short kid from her music class had come in with all his nice blonde hair shaven off for a crooked stripe down the center.

"Don't bring that up! It took forever to grow my hair back!" Wally whines.

The stifled snort from earlier comes back with a force before Kuki can cover it up, and is quickly followed by two more as Kuki dissolves into laughter.

"You're snorting!" Wally hoots. "Oh my god, that's so cute!" He begins to laugh alongside her, poking her stomach to see if he can make her snort again.

"St-stop!" Kuki pleads through her giggles, grabbing his hands. He lets her pull them away and they hover there between them, like that day in the rain.

Their laughter peters off, but Kuki can't find it in her to miss it.

Kuki hasn't _not_ noticed how close she's been leaning, and Wally must be aware that what used to be a foot of space between them has become bare centimeters. But now their faces are close enough that when they meet each other's eyes they stick, and cannot look away.

In the limited light of the treehouse his eyes look nearly silver, shadows gathering beneath his brows and in the dimple in his cheek. Kuki can't tell what he's thinking. Wally licks his lips, leaving them pink and glossy and slightly parted. Kuki knows she's staring now, just as she knows they're both slowly leaning closer.

Who started it, she can't say.

Breath gathers between them, humid and buttery, slowing down the moment as if the air had turned to syrup. Kuki feels everything—the sweat on the insides of her knees, the rasp of her eyelashes as she blinks, the stiffness of her spine, the thunder in her chest, the hard shoulder pressed against hers where she can feel a similar storm—she feels a thousand imagined moments where their lips might touch, and then his are only a breath away.

Kuki closes her eyes…

…and meets clear air. The shoulder is gone. Her hands are empty.

Wally is up and standing. His breath is somewhere else. "So, uh, I should probably get back before my Mum—uh, well, you know how she… I should walk you home for real now since it's getting so late."

Kuki can't see his eyes.

She _remembers_ this.

"I mean, if you want me to walk you home. I can. But if you don't, it's. You know the way. But it's like, dark, and I told my Mum I would—"

"Don't bother." Kuki may be startled by the chill in her voice, but any part of her that isn't cold anger and crushing disappointment is far, far away. She stands up and she doesn't feel her clenched fists or tightened jaw, only a buoy in her chest bobbing furiously back and forth, threatening to sink.

She remembers what this is like, remembers a thousand gestures of _almost-not-quite-there_ and broken moments and bitten back words. She remembers the hurt, the regret, …the _anger._

Wally hesitates. "Are you sure? I—"

"I'm sure," Kuki snaps. The buoy is caught in lightning and the thunder in her chest turns to hail. She glares at Wally and he will not meet her eyes. _Coward_, her mind supplies, and the word is passed around from cell to cell until her whole body is singing with fury and anguish and frustration, _coward, coward, coward coward!_

Kuki turns and marches toward the elevator, a hurricane in each step.

Wally calls out, a tiny canoe on the sea: "Kuki, wait—"

Kuki whips around and his eyes are absolutely gray. Lightning. Thunder. Tsunami. "Shut _up_, Wally! God, I can't believe I—" She tangles her fingers frustratedly into her hair, catching on the knot that he had woven into it. Her mouth catches the whimper that threatens to escape, the words of someone else years gone: _Nothing's ever going to change between us_. "You can't keep _doing this_, Wally! Either…either man the hell up or _leave me alone_!"

He flinches, and it's satisfying. Kuki walks out and he does not follow.

The sky is clear and bright with the cold light of stars as Kuki walks home alone, arms wrapped around herself. She made the right choice. She deserves to be treated like she means something. She deserves…

She deserves not to waste tears on this.

* * *

A button had been pressed, and far out beyond the atmosphere, where something resembling a tree crawls along the dark side of the moon, a small red light answers.

* * *

**AN: **Dun, dun, DUNNN! Oh, the melodrama! Finally, the main relationship and plot arcs have been set into motion! Things should pick up now, though I can't say the same for updates. The further into this I go, the less I have pre-written!

I'd love to see some fresh-baked reviews! And/or contact me on my tumblr (askthetoast)!


	14. The Old Grind

**AN:** And onwards! Here comes the aftermath of last chapter's events, with a surprise POV! Sorry this one is so late. Classes started and things have been ugh. As for the story, I kept writing a bunch of scenes later in the story then what's supposed to happen now, so this chapter kept being put off!

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 14: The Old Grind**

* * *

Numbuh 94 has been part of the Kids Next Door T.R.E.K. department for exactly eleven months, ten days, and five hours when a gray area on the rig lights up.

She frowns, slides her feet off the console, and pokes at it. It continues to pulse gently in red.

Treehouse Recovery, Ejection, and Kommunications is usually one of the most boring jobs on the moonbase. Transferring calls, passing on complaints, notifying her superiors of raids or breaches, and monitoring dead houses doesn't hold an eleven-year-old's attention for every long, and Numbuh 94 usually spends her shifts reading comic books and painting her nails.

Gray areas are dead. The treehouses are either abandoned, broken beyond repair, or shut down to be replaced by an upgraded one later. They don't light up—_ever_—that's exactly the reason they're called _dead_.

But this house, which has never shown any sign of life since Numbuh 94 has been here, is lit up like a Christmas tree as if it hasn't been growing cobwebs for who knows how long.

"Computer, zoom in on anomaly."

The screen grows and shows a silhouette of an outdated '04 model, stats and history scrolling down the other side.

"TL;DR. Condense"

_"Kids Next Door Treehouse Model 53724-9, Sector V,"_ the computer pipes up. _"Status: Active."_

Numbuh 94 blinks. "I'm sorry, what's its status?"

_"Status: Active."_

"Explain," Numbuh 94 asks a bit desperately.

"_DNA match at 2200 hours, Numbuh 4 Beatles, Wallabee_._ Immediate reactivation per protocol i-362-5._"

"Override, authorization i-94."

"_Denied._"

"Crud." Numbuh 94 squeaks, then again for good measure. "_Crud._" She scrambles up and rushes out of her comfortable broom closet, down the long, winding hallway to the 4-way elevator.

"Captain's Bridge, please," she gasps out to the computer when the doors slide shut behind her.

"_Supreme Leader is currently in a meeting, redirecting to mess hall_—"

"Override, code T, authorization i-94."

"_Accepted_." The elevator dings and lurches to the left.

Numbuh 94 is let into Numbuh 209's private meeting room within moments, the Supreme Leader looking surprised but not angry.

"Emergency with the toilets in 433-J again?" she jokes.

"Um, no. Sir? We-we have a problem with Sector V." Numbuh 94 stammers out.

Numbuh 209 sighs good-naturedly, leaning on one hand. "What has Numbuh 798 done now?"

Numbuh 94 swallows. "Not…not _that_ Sector V, sir."

The Supreme Leader's smile disappears. "Crud."

* * *

Kuki wakes up with her face on the floor.

She'd dreamed, but not about the treehouse. As she pulls herself up, head pounding and eyes gritty with sleep, Kuki finds the details of the dream slipping away. All that's left is the hollow feeling of anger and hurt like scabbed-over wounds being constantly picked.

It reminds her suddenly of last night and she groans, grateful it's Saturday so she can crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her face. Right now she just wants to hide from the world.

Kuki is sure that she almost kissed Wally last night. Or, he almost kissed her. She's a bit fuzzy on that part. But he _did_ pull away, that she knows.

…Did he not want to kiss her?

No, she's sure he did. Kuki isn't stupid, she knows when someone's crushing on her. And it's not like she's made any secret of _her_ feelings.

He pulled away because…—there's a familiar pounding in Kuki's head as she crawls back under her duvet—…that's what he always did.

_"Now gimme that quarter you owe me"_

_"…What are my parents doing here?"_

Kuki rubs her temples, snuggling further into her bed.

He never wants to _change_ things, he never wants to _complicate_ things, he never wants to be _vulnerable_—well, that's fine. Totally fine. They can be friends for now; she can wait.

Kuki groans again. That's what she always told herself, isn't it?

They just keep running in an endless cycle of not-quite-connections. They're never going to break it unless one of them puts their foot down.

Kuki's train of thought is interrupted by a fist pounding at her bedroom door.

"Kuki! Mom says to tell you sleeping past ten is for babies and interns!"

Groaning, Kuki pulls the duvet over her head. "Shut up, Mushi!"

Saturday passes.

* * *

Abby texts her on Sunday, asking if she's free after school on Thursday. She is.

* * *

Monday is irritatingly sunny, and Kuki has a headache all morning. Pre-Cal comes too quick, and when she walks into class her eyes meet Wally's for a split second. He isn't usually here before her. His eyes skitter away, hands gripping each other tightly on his desk. Kuki still isn't sure how she wants today to go, but she sits down and doesn't look at him again.

A beat.

"Uh, hey, Kuki? Can I see your notes from chapter eleven real quick?"

Kuki feels herself bristle. If he thinks he can just waltz back in here and act like nothing happened…well, that's what they always did, right? Maybe next time…no. No. Life's too short. She knows that now.

Kuki makes herself glare at him. "No."

Her head turns away just slow enough to see his expression drop, lips part to, maybe, speak.

He doesn't.

Monday passes.

* * *

"Kuki Sanban!"

It's Tuesday, it's lunchtime, and Abby had given Kuki a smile and a wink during Econ that Kuki had been too late to return.

Now it's Virginia's turn to wield a grin in her direction.

…When was the last time they'd even spoken?

"Hell-o, when was the last time we all hung out?" Virginia asks, clearing her backpack from the seat beside her so Kuki can sit down in her usual spot at the lunch table.

She'd sat here all week…hadn't she? She must have participated in some kind of conversation…

"Um. I don't remember," Kuki answers truthfully, twirling her spork into sad-looking green beans.

"Ugh, it's been forever!" Fanny complains loudly.

Eve quietly drinks her milk, subtly avoiding Kuki's eyes. It suddenly strikes Kuki that the last time she spoke to Eve they were at each other's throats. Over Wally. It seems stupid now, and Kuki flushes with shame.

"Exactly," Virginia says, snapping her fingers. "Friday, after school. Slumber party. Fanny's place. The four of us, just like old times!"

_"Why don't you just invite your own friends?"_

_"I'm a new operative, Numbah Fouurr uh, buh…thirty…teen…seven?"_

_"Nooo, do you _like-_like Numbuh Four?"_

"Hey, you're just inviting yourself over, now?" Fanny shouts good-naturedly.

"Yup!"

Eve meets Kuki's eyes briefly. "I'm in."

_"Well, I'm almost thirteen, so…"_

Kuki rubs at her temple and tries to smile. "You don't think we're too old for slumber parties?"

Virginia snorts. "My sister's in college and she has slumber parties with her roommate all the time!"

"I thought she was dating her roommate?" Fanny interjects.

"Point taken. Still! We're seniors in high school. This is our last chance to act like kids! Whaddaya say, Kuki?"

They all look at her, expectant.

_"C'mon, Kuki! Just think like a kid!"_

Kuki smiles. These are her friends, too. That was real. "I'll be there."

Tuesday passes.

* * *

They get the results of their Pre-Cal test; Kuki doesn't look at her solid, disappointing 86%, and definitely doesn't watch Wally as he crumples his up and stuffs it down into the bottom of his backpack.

Wednesday passes.

* * *

It's hard, Thursday, to avoid Wally after class when they're both going to the same place, but Kuki manages.

She's out of breath when she reaches the treehouse, and Hoagie is the only one there.

"Hey Kuki!" he calls, waving at her happily with one hand. The other is holding a deck of colorful cards.

"Hey Hoagie," Kuki responds, trying to act like she's not out of breath after running three blocks. "What are those?"

Hoagie grins and fans out the cards. "Yipper cards! Collectable, gameable, tradeable, you name it! I've almost got the entire _Uncool Zombie Wars_ pack!"

Kuki thinks she's seen kids at school play this before. They—mostly boys—all group up at the round tables in the lunchroom during free periods and yell about MP.

"How do you play?"

Hoagie's eyes light up.

A few minutes later, as Hoagie is excitedly explaining about speed quotients and turn-based combat, familiar sneakers come trotting up.

Kuki can see a blur of orange out of the corner of her eye, watches as it falters before coming closer at a faster pace. Kuki leans closer to Hoagie just a bit more, feeling petty.

"Hey Wally! You wanna learn about Yipper: _Dobermans of the Sky_?"

Wally scoffs. "Of course _you'd_ be into that stupid geek stuff."

Kuki sees Hoagie's grin falter, just slightly, before he covers it with a self-depreciating laugh. Rage licks at the edges of her vision, and she spins around with a glare.

"Quit being a _bully_, Wally! Just because you're not smart enough to play doesn't mean it's stupid!"

"What?! Now who's the bully?" Wally screeches back.

Kuki ignores him, turning back around and smiling beatifically at a bewildered Hoagie. "Don't listen to him, Hoagie. Wally's just mad because he's _short_!"

"Hey, shut up, you…girl!"

Kuki spins again, a manic laugh leaving her lips, "Ooh, I've never heard such a good comeback!"

"That's a surprise; I figured your giant ears would pick up satellite!" Wally snarls.

"Your mom cuts your hair with a bowl!"

"I told you that in confidence!"

Kuki's grilling up for another blow when red cotton blocks her path. "Would both of you just shut up for one moment?"

It's Nigel, and something about the stern clench of his jaw and the heaviness of his brow makes Kuki automatically snap her jaw shut.

"I realize you two are having some kind of _lovers' spat_,"—Nigel keeps talking over Wally's strangled noise—"but we are here to…um, for…something." Authority withering slowly, Nigel looks back at Abby, who showed up about as suddenly as he did. "Right?"

A twitching grin is visible under the shadow of Abby's hat, and she tips the brim down further to cover it. "You got it."

Nigel briefly inclines his head back toward Wally and Kuki with an 'I-told-you-so' expression.

Abby jerks her head back toward the treehouse. "C'mon, we'll talk inside."

* * *

**AN: **I literally randomly generated numbers until I got one that didn't have results on KND Wiki to make Numbuhs 94 and 209. All the existing peeps are too old in this universe! But, 94 happens to be my birth year, so yay! I cut this one earlier than I wanted to so I could get it out earlier.

Also: Return of the Operation: SLUMBER crew! (I'm realizing now that maybe it wasn't clear that Virginia and Eve are the two other girls from that episode lol) Kuki is discovering that she's getting lost in her newly expanded world! Can she find a balance? Tune in next…uh…whenever-the-next-update-is to find out!


	15. Teen-napped!

**AN: **Apologies in advance for any mistakes, bad writing, or sentences that disappear halfway through. In an effort to keep my promise of updating during winter break, I am up very late before my return to school to post this. It may be edited at a later date, and I will update this author's note when that happens. :) Enjoy!

* * *

**Wild Birds**

**Chapter 15: Teen-napped!**

* * *

Kuki thinks Abby is leading them to the main room that they had entered last time, but the creaky old elevator continues to ascend. She peers over Abby's shoulder to see the buttons, but the crudely-drawn-on floor descriptors have long been lost by time. Abby's fingers twitch by the controls.

They arrive on an upper floor Kuki doesn't recognize (though recognizing anything is astonishing enough), all chrome and round with a bulbous roof and a center console of sad-looking computers covered in cobwebs. Abby crosses quickly to one of them and slams around a few buttons. Remarkably, it begins to boot up.

"I was expecting an old-timey dial-up sound," Hoagie remarks from her side. "_Brrrrrrrrrr, eeey-aaaah, eey-aaaah, eeey-aaaahhhhhh!_"

Abby smacks him quiet with her hat. "I guess that means you volunteer."

"For what?" Hoagie asks, rubbing his head.

Abby picks up his hand and forms it so his pointer finger is straight up, the others curled into his palm. "You gotta stick this," she shakes his hand with its extended finger "up your nose and get a DNA sample."

"Eugh, that's disgusting!" Wally and Kuki shout at the same time. She automatically shoots him a look which is returned only for a moment before they both turn away again.

Hoagie looks delighted. "A _booger _sample? Oh boy, I've got _so _many jokes for just this occasion!"

"Isn't there something better to use? Like hair or…?" Kuki ventures.

Nigel rubs at his bald head. "Or a fingerprint. Surely this 'KND' has access to that kind of technology. What do you need this for again?"

Abby huffs impatiently. "I'll tell you after Hoagie does what I…what Abby asked."

Kuki's confusion is interrupted by a buzzing in her back pocket. Backing away quietly from the group, she pulls out her phone, expecting the caller to be her mom or Mushi. It's an unknown number. Kuki is about to hit 'end call' when the screen is suddenly overrun with quick-fire numbers. There is a click, and a familiar voice erupts quietly from the speakers in a guttural accent.

Kuki holds the phone to her ear. "Henrietta?"

"Oh, thank _God._ Have you seen Abby?"

"Uh," Kuki spares a glace toward the girl in question, who is demonstrating how the module works and gesturing to a little tube at the edge of the dash where Hoagie should put his…sample.

Henrietta doesn't lose steam. "Because she's not answering either of her phones and she hasn't checked in with Paul and I can't believe I had to _call_ him but I haven't talked to her since she left my place last night—"

"Henrietta, calm down! Abby's right here."

"Right where?"

"At the…uh," Kuki hesitates, wondering how much Abby's girlfriend knows, or is allowed to know. "…The place you're not supposed to know about? We're all here."

"…Let me talk to her."

Kuki grimaces, hearing the threat in her voice. She doesn't envy whatever lecture Abby's about to be on the receiving end of. She palms her phone and walks back to the group just as Hoagie is dramatically hunting inside his nostril.

"Abby? Phone."

"Can't it wait?"

"It's Henrietta, and she sounds kinda mad because you weren't answering your phone."

"The battery died," Abby explains without looking her way, attention solely on Hoagie. "C'mon, fool! You're holding up the line!"

Kuki hesitantly raises the phone again. "She said-"

"Yeah, I heard her," Henrietta replies, a new edge to her voice. "Tell her to bring me a burger with extra pickles when she gets back."

"Henrietta wants a burger, extra pickles."

"Ok, sure thing," Abby replies absentmindedly. Hoagie, apparently a finding a winner, withdraws his finger and inserts it into the tube.

Kuki turns back to her phone. "She said okay."

Instead of the sighing or grumbling that Kuki expected, she hears a sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line.

Henrietta's voice calls out sharp and quick. "Kuki, get out of there. That's not Abby. That's _not Abby!_"

It all happens in a matter of seconds.

Flashing lights suddenly fill Kuki's vision, forcing her to drop the phone. Henrietta's frantic voice is shattered by a loud boom above their heads.

_Light._

_Rain._

_A rabbit._

Kuki blinks and she's on the ground, shoulder throbbing painfully, vision blurry. There's a ringing in her ears that won't stop. Breath coming quick, she struggles to her feet, hands reaching out and grasping soft cotton. _Wally._

The room is filled by blaring red lights, sirens slowly filtering back in as her hearing comes back online. The roof has been blown open, and dark, blurry shapes hover outside. One begins to dock.

Kuki tugs at Wally's hoodie, crawling over him to find her feet. "Wally. _Wally. _Get up." Her voice is a whisper to her ears, but she may have been shouting. The body beneath her hands stirs, as do red and blue figures she recognizes as Nigel and Hoagie, ahead of her.

One person is still standing.

Kuki blinks hard, coughing up dust, recognizing Abby's hat but not the expression beneath it.

"That was a formality, really," Abby coos, her voice sounding strange and underwater. "They knew it was you morons crashing the place, but y'know…paperwork." She winks.

"Who are you?" Nigel calls, his voice stronger than his shaking legs. "Where is Abby?"

Hoagie gapes, struggling to bring his body to his feet. "Wha-Abby? You're not-?"

Abby laughs, a cruel and sharp sound that runs cold fingers down Kuki's spine. Wally, silent, tightens his grip on her hand.

"Sweet, _stupid _Hoagie P. Gilligan," Abby tuts. "Don't you recognize me?"

Abby's face suddenly fractures, her skin pulling apart into slabs of metal that slide away from each other in a line all down her body. Inside, a new person emerges, a pink sports bra strapped on the outside of her clothes. She looks a lot like the face that slid away.

"Oh, that was almost too easy," she coos. "My little sister is so easy to imitate it's sad."

Kuki's heart slams into her ribcage; she feels more than sees her teammates flinch around her. _Cree._

"Cree!"

The attention shifts as a petite girl with a long braid beneath a samurai cap labeled '221' marches into the room. Behind her are a dozen children in heavy armor, strange guns in hand and helmets shielding their faces. At the edge of the battalion, silhouetted against the sky, is the massive ship that had burst through the ceiling, a hazardous hunk of scrap metal with mean-looking fins. "You did what we asked, you're free to go. We don't need any saucy villain monologues from you."

Cree scowls. "Whatever. You owe me for this, KNDorks." She taps her heels together and rockets appear out of nowhere, pushing her into the air. She blows Hoagie a kiss that he flinches from before she speeds off with a laugh.

Kuki is frozen.

"What's going on?" she hears someone say weakly. It may have been her, but she can't be sure.

'221' sighs and pulls what looks like a half-junked iPad from her belt. "The Former Sector V, Numbuhs 1-4," she says, seeming to talk to herself more than them. "Reactivated treehouse by partial sample match at 2200 hours last Friday evening." Numbuh 221 stops to scribble something down, then smiles wryly at Wally. "We needed a proper nasal sample to be sure. For legal reasons, of course. Sweat works well enough, but it's not definitive."

_The button._ Kuki thinks. Wally had put his hands on it the night they snuck in. The night they…oh, this is all her fault.

"Where's Abby?" Hoagie blurts out suddenly. "What did you do to her?"

Numbuh 221's dark eyes glaze over him boredly. "Numbuh 5-T was arrested for crimes against the Decomm Regulations and conspiracy with adult neutrals. She's in a cell on the moonbase awaiting trial."

"Conspiracy?!" "Trial?!" "_Moonbase?!_" Hoagie, Nigel, and Wally shout consecutively.

Kuki feels like her tongue is glued to the roof of her mouth, her chest tight with worry. _Abby. I'm so sorry, Abby._

"And now," Numbuh 221 crooks one arm and the operatives behind her settle into battle positions, guns raised and ready. "You're all scheduled for immediate decommissioning."

_The chair, lights, my wrists hurt it's all going wrong my mind is tearing it's taking it all away please don't make me forget please please please_

Wally breathes heavy behind her, his grip on her hand growing painful. She squeezes back just as hard, anger forgotten for the moment in the need for comfort.

Numbuh 221's arm straightens, the army moves forward, and all hell breaks loose.

The opposite side of the roof suddenly gives at a point, making way for a massive drill that peels through the metal like ice cream. The KND operatives scatter as the drill barrels through, spearheading what looks like a luxury SUV with rockets for wheels.

The vehicle skids to a stop between Numbuh 221 and Nigel, tires screeching in agony as they return to their original positions.

Henrietta, eyes wild behind her glasses, hair down in frizzy curls around her face, is at the wheel.

"Get in!"

No arguments are made.

Finding her legs again, Kuki dashes for the backseat, sliding it open as the operatives on the other side open fire. Lasers and gumballs ricochet every which way as Kuki's friends pile in one after another, Hoagie hurling himself into the front passenger seat and Wally rolling into the back. The second Nigel is clear of the door Kuki throws herself into the seat, slamming the door closed just as the squadron begins to flank to her side.

"Hang on!" Henrietta shouts, throwing the car into gear. Kuki feels the thump and shudder of the wheels turning back around, and then the ground is gone completely. Gunfire rocks the ship every which way, smoke billowing from beneath the hood.

"We can't take much more of this!" Nigel shouts. "And we won't last ten seconds if they follow us in that monster!"

"You're right!" Henrietta gasps. Then she banks hard to the right and slams straight into the KND ship. Kuki watches from the window as it teeters over the edge of the treehouse. All the operatives stop firing, watching with horror as it tips backwards, hesitates, and falls straight off the edge.

They speed off, whooping in joy. Kuki even finds herself laughing despite the gravity of the situation, a strangely welcome sense of accomplishment in battle washing over her. As she turns to watch the ship crash into the ground, she catches Wally's eye. He's grinning, too, a victorious light in his eyes that makes him look insanely attractive. Kuki flips back around.

"Woah, what kind of car is this?" Hoagie is asking up front, a hungry light in his eyes as he runs his hands over the dashboard.

"TND S.U.B.U.R.B.A.N." Henrietta replies. "I thought Abby was being a little overprotective giving me this, but I'm glad I've got it now."

"I thought the Suburban was made by Chevrolet," Nigel replies doubtfully.

"Not Suburban, _dummkopf_. Super Underrated Bad Uncle Rocketcar Battles All Nemeses."

"Cool!" Hoagie grins.

Nigel sighs. "This is all well and good, but where do we go? We've lost them for now, but they're bound to be after us sooner rather than later."

"First let me park this thing. Then we can talk rescue mission."

"You can land at my house, my parents won't even notice," Wally pipes up from the third row where he's strapped himself into both seatbelts. "Just head for the water tower."

"Rescue mission?" Hoagie says, wriggling his fingers distractedly over the S.U.B.U.R.B.A.N.'s controls. "We're gonna save Abby? Awesome! …How?"

It's Nigel who answers, a dangerously familiar smirk filling up his face. "Easy. We're going to the moon."

* * *

**AN: **Hooray for Cree! Hooray for lots of things! There was actually more I wanted to fit into this chapter, but I gave myself some time restraints and it would have taken too long to fit it in. Sorry about the lateness, as usual (Also sorry for my horrible ship name lol). I'd hoped to get more done over break, but I ended up being too busy. I may go back and edit this chapter for clarity since I posted it so hastily, and I'll put a post on askthetoast if I do. The story is nearing its end, though! Hold on for the ride. :)


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